Breathe Again
by SassySnow1988
Summary: What if Charming found out that George had something to do w/Snow's rejection of him in 1x10? And what pushed Snow over the edge into taking the potion after she promised not to? What will happen when they find each other again? Read to find out! Post 1x10. Snowing
1. Chapter One: Breathe Again

**Breathe Again**

**A/N: **This is my first foray into the wonderful world of _Once Upon a Time_—quite possibly my new favorite show on TV—and I REALLY hope I don't suck at it. lol I was inspired to write this by 1x10 "7:15 AM" and I'll also be incorporating some of 1x13 "What Happened to Frederick," so spoilers through those eps. This is basically a continuation/explanation of what happens to both Snow and Charming after Snow has the talk with him and leaves the castle with the dwarfs. Some events are a little different from what we see in the show (specifically bits of 1x13) but that's because I started writing this prior to 1x13.

**Disclaimer: **I own absolutely nothing _OUaT _related—although Prince Charming or the Huntsman/Graham would be the greatest present EVER!—the show and all characters therein belong to Edward Kitsis, Adam Horowitz and _Disney_. So I suppose I'll just have to settle for the DVD of S1 when it comes out. ;-}

**Rating: **Teen (violence, language, and dark/suggestive themes)

**Special Thanks: KayleeThePete**—her amazing _OUaT _fics are truly incredible and she was instrumental in my having the courage to post this. She also read the early drafts and gave me great advice! Huge amounts of thanks, dearie! :-)

**Written While Under the Influence of: **Sara Bareilles-Breathe Again, Breaking Benjamin-Dear Agony, Hurts-Illuminated, Roger Waters feat. Van Morrison & the Band-Comfortably Numb (Live Version), Ben Harper-Amen Omen, Ryan Star-Losing Your Memory, Black Rebel Motorcycle Club-Feel It Now, Andrew Belle-In My Veins, The Mary Onettes-Explosions, the YouTube vid "Come Back To Me" (Song: Linkin Park-Iridescent) by freedomnova, Hurts-Stay, and Oasis-Stop Crying Your Heart Out.

**Chapter One: Breathe Again **

_"All I have, all I need_

_He's the air I would kill to breathe_

_Holds my love in his hands_

_But still I'm searching for something_

_Out of breath, I'm left hoping someday_

_I'll breathe again_

_I'll breathe again." _

—_Sara Bareilles, "Breathe Again"_

_So this is what it feels like to lose the person you love most_, Snow White thought as she huddled, knees drawn up to her chest, on the bed the dwarfs had given her in their tiny cottage. There didn't seem to be tears enough in her to make the pain go away, not enough sobs to cry herself hollow and appease the ache in her chest. She'd once thought she knew how desolate loss could feel but that didn't even hold a candle to this. No wonder the Evil Queen wanted her dead; if it wouldn't completely ruin all she'd just sacrificed, Snow would cheerfully run a sword through King George for what he'd forced her to do.

But for the first time ever the raven-haired princess truly understood the supposed wretchedness that her stepmother claimed lurked in her heart. How could she be anything but wretched after what she'd done? The expression of utter devastation that'd been etched on James' face as she stood there and told him she didn't love him and never would haunted her every time she closed her eyes. But the king hadn't been the one to put that look on his handsome face, it'd been all _her_. Snow was the only one with the power to hurt him like that and she'd done it, albeit to save his life.

It would've been better had she just begged George to kill her, or at least less painful.

So instead of sleeping as Doc and Grumpy had insisted—both telling her things would be better in the morning—she'd sat up the entire night, green gaze fixated on the tiny bottle perched so close yet agonizingly out of reach on the bedside table. The bottle whose contents promised to erase the image of James from her mind forever and take with his memory all the emotions tearing her apart inside.

And would it be so bad not to love him anymore if she wouldn't even remember him? To never endure what hearing of Prince Charming's happy marriage would do to her? To not have to feel her heart be ripped out all over again at the inevitable news of a baby being born to inherit his father's throne? A baby with James' brilliant blue eyes that wouldn't be hers?

She choked on a sob as fresh tears streamed down her already raw cheeks. Snow used the sleeve of the white nightgown Grumpy had given her, a nightgown she had a sneaking suspicion once belonged to the woman he'd loved and lost, to wipe away her tears but new ones kept pouring out to take their place. The young princess buried her face in a pillow to quiet the cries wrenching through her, halfway hoping she'd accidentally smother herself and end her suffering.

_No._ She wasn't going to repay Grumpy's kindness by killing herself or wallowing in her sorrows, not after he'd risked his life and the lives of his remaining brothers to help her.

James was alive and she'd given him the chance to move on with his life, to have a future unlike any she ever could've possibly offered him as a disgraced princess constantly on the run. That should make her happy, knowing he'd have a life even if hers was all but over. She was going to pull herself together and find a way to keep living for the dwarfs' sake, if nothing else.

It seemed to take an eternity but Snow finally managed to will her breathing back to normal then scrubbed her face with her sleeves until it was dry, burning and itchy as all hell but dry. Careful not to wake her still sleeping hosts, she quietly tiptoed over to the basin on the table and washed her face, the cool water a balm to her overheated skin. She dried her face with a nearby towel, gaze once again drawn to the bottle that Rumplestiltskin had given her. Her fingers lingered over the phial as she replaced the towel on the table, the milky blue potion calling to her with a siren's song of oblivion.

But Snow forced herself to pull away. Grumpy had begged her not to drink it, to give time a chance to mend her broken heart first, and she wanted to do that for him. It was the least she could do to repay all he'd done for her after knowing her barely a day.

An explosion of color in the sky outside the window caught her attention and she stepped closer to see. The princess could just make out the sound of fireworks in the distance as a shower of blue and gold sparks cascaded down beyond the tree line, and her breath caught in her throat.

The fireworks were from the castle. And fireworks were only used during celebrations.

_"Prince James is marrying Midas' daughter...in two days' time,"_ Red's words echoed in her ears as she gasped for air, unable to breathe.

Two days was suddenly today.

That meant James was marrying _her _right now.

It was all Snow could do to keep standing at that moment, certain this was what it felt like to be struck dead. Coldness seeped across her skin as a single tear slipped down the pale skin of her cheek, lungs working furiously against the invisible hand that seemed to be squeezing the very life out of her chest.

She turned on her heel and in two frantic strides crossed the room to the bedside table. Trembling fingers closed around the bottle and removed the stopper as she brought it to her lips.

_I'm sorry, Grumpy, but it's just too painful_, she mentally apologized as the potion hit her tongue.

The last thought in her mind before Snow White stumbled back to the bed and numbing darkness overtook her vision was: _I love you, James. I hope you find the happiness you deserve. _

XXX

James stared straight ahead at the wall behind the priest's head as strains of the bridal march reached his ears, although to him it sounded more like a dirge—which was extremely fitting because today was the death of his freedom, his love, and what was left of the hope he'd managed to hold on to through this entire disaster. Snow had asked him to fill his heart with love for someone else but he couldn't, losing her had killed whatever capacity he had to love, let alone love someone like _Abigail_. The Ice Princess cared only about herself, jewelry, fancy clothes, and whoever could provide those things; her heart held no room for anyone or anything else. But if he couldn't have love, James could devote his life to service of the people.

As future king he would ensure that no one ever starved in his kingdom, and that no one would ever have to take such desperate measures as he did just to keep what was rightfully theirs. Maybe he could save someone else his fate.

But James was sure he would never be able to forget Snow White for as long as he lived. He'd just have to learn to live with the near constant visions of green apple colored eyes sparkling mischievously as lips red as blood called him "Prince Charming." Have to just endure the dreams where they were in the woods again and instead of letting her walk away from him as before, he pulled her close and tucked those wild ebony curls behind her ear then told her he had no intention of giving Abigail his mother's ring. The ring and his heart both already belonged to her.

Even after she'd destroyed any hope for a future together he couldn't bring himself to be angry with her, at least Snow had the decency to tell him how she felt to his face and wish him well. The letter she'd returned to him pressed down like a leaden weight where he'd stuffed it into the pocket over his heart, having been unable to burn it as had been his first instinct, but he carried it anyway as a silent act of defiance to his 'father.'

Blue eyes slid askance to where King George stood beside him, a beatific expression plastered on his face as they watched Midas lead Abigail down the aisle.

"Smile, _son_," George ordered in an undertone, smile slipping a fraction.

James didn't even bother attempting one, fairly certain he was physically incapable of it today.

The king's pale blue eyes narrowed into a now familiar glare but he couldn't exactly make a threat with so many witnesses present. James had to control the laugh bubbling up his throat at the sight of a man who held the fate of an entire kingdom in his hand being forced to hold his tongue in an argument with a former shepherd.

George stepped closer, placing a hand on James' shoulder as though imparting some last-minute fatherly wisdom, and whispered harshly, "Do not ruin things now, damn it! Not when we are so close."

"I'm standing at the altar, _father_. What more do you want?" the sandy-haired prince shot back coldly.

"I want you to forget all about your precious Snow White and focus on your future wife!"

James' head whipped around to King George, an absolutely glacial blue gaze boring into him. "How do you know her name?"

The elder royal's eyes momentarily widened in realization of his mistake but he quickly schooled his expression. "You told me about meeting her on a journey."

"I never told you her name. I would _never_ have told _you _her name," the prince replied, tone low and dangerous as he shrugged off George's hand. "What did you do?"

"Son..."

"What did you do?!" James roared, voice resonating throughout the entire chapel and directing all eyes to him. "Did you threaten her? Tell her you'd kill her too if she didn't end things?" he demanded, so far beyond caring at this point what happened with the wedding or the charade they'd concocted.

George clamped a hand down on his pretend son's bicep and all but dragged him outside the chapel into the vestibule. "Do you want to cause a war right here and now?!"

"Tell me what you've done, _father, _or so help me I will walk out there and tell Midas every single detail of our arrangement," the prince ground out, barely contained rage vibrating in his voice as he went toe-to-toe with the king.

"I did what you couldn't do. I got rid of the thing standing between my kingdom and its salvation," George hissed, meeting the younger man's glare with one of his own.

James recoiled in disgust but part of him was relieved—this meant Snow hadn't said those things of her own volition that night; the king had forced her to. He couldn't believe how easily he'd bought into her story about coming all the way to the palace just to say goodbye to him—it would've been much easier, and not to mention far less dangerous, had she simply responded with a letter of her own telling him she didn't love him. But he'd been too distracted to think of that then, too busy reeling from having her tear his still beating heart from his chest and grind it into dust, metaphorically speaking.

His heart jumped as he remembered how her eyes had shone in the firelight, how she'd looked more afraid than repulsed when he'd tried to kiss her. At the time, he'd convinced himself that it'd been pity he'd seen flash across her features, but with what he now knew her actions that night took on a whole new meaning.

There was still hope for them after all. And he intended to learn the truth of her feelings for him sooner rather than later.

"Find someone else to save your kingdom. We're done," the prince said, reaching up and yanking the golden crown Midas had sent for him off his head and throwing it at the white-haired man's feet. He turned on his heel and started down the hall, focused on getting the hell out of this castle and finding Snow.

"You take one more step and I'll have that farm burning by nightfall with your dear mother still inside it."

James froze, a fury unlike anything he'd ever known before running through his entire body at the calm, cold threat of the man who'd raised his twin brother as his own son. The hand at his side itched for the sword sheathed on his hip, and although he wanted nothing more than to run it through the pathetic excuse for a human being behind him, he stopped himself. He was better than that.

Instead, the former shepherd abruptly wheeled around, balled his hand into a fist and rammed it right into King George's smug grin.

"If you so much as think about going near my mother or Snow White _ever _again," the prince began as he stalked toward George's shocked form on the ground—looking every bit a frightened old man as a hand nursed his bleeding lip—freeing his sword and pressing the blade to the king's throat, "I swear on everything holy, I will kill you."

The truth of his words frightened even him but all that mattered was that George believed him and, judging by how the older man's chin quivered against the point of the steel, he did.

"I am not your son. You're going to forget you ever knew me and find another way to save your kingdom, because the next time I see you…" James put enough pressure on the sword to cut into the thick velvet robe the king wore and only stopped when he heard a distinct yelp of pain, letting him know he'd broken skin. "Do you understand me?"

George nodded spastically but that wasn't enough.

"Say the words."

"I understand," the king gasped, eyes wide with terror.

James immediately set back off down the hallway, his rapid footfalls ominously loud in the space as he returned his sword to its scabbard. He forced himself not to run, certain that guards would descend upon him at any moment, as he made his way to his bedchamber.

The door had barely shut behind him before he was tearing at the heavy, golden brocade doublet and cape he wore, heedless of the sound of ripping fabric as he stripped out of the lavish wedding clothes Midas had provided and changed into the vastly more functional—not to mention comfortable—leather doublet and breeches that'd become his uniform as of late. He was rapidly stuffing provisions for his journey to find Snow White into a rucksack when he heard the chamber door behind him open and then close.

He spun, sword drawn, only to see Abigail standing in the exact same space that Snow had occupied a day earlier.

"What are you doing here?" James finally managed to ask once he forced the image of the beautiful dark-haired princess from his mind.

"I need to talk to you."

"Nothing to talk about," he bit out, lowering his sword as he yanked the ties on the bag shut then tossed it over his shoulder. "The wedding's off."

"I gathered. What with all the shouting," the blonde replied, a hint of what he could swear was amusement breaking across her usually bored expression.

"I'm sorry but..."

She raised a hand to halt his apology and stepped farther into the room, the pearlescent fabric of her wedding dress rustling with the movement. "Don't be sorry. I'm not. I only agreed to marry you because it was what my father wanted."

James was momentarily stunned at her confiding in him—seeing as they'd barely spoken to each other about anything other than the wedding itself since they'd met—but quickly shook it off and continued toward the door. "Good. Then I wish you the best, Princess, but now I have to go."

"Wait!" Abigail reached out and pulled him to a stop as he tried to move past her. "You can't leave now. If you do my father will hunt you down and kill you just to save face."

The same thought had crossed his mind many times before, and he'd planned for as much of the backlash his leaving would cause as possible—it was amazing the cooperation saving a knight's life from a dragon could garner—but he hadn't counted on making such a public scene when he escaped, or that he would also be searching for Snow. And the last thing James needed on top of everything else was an obscenely wealthy, pissed off king out for his head.

But the fact that it was Midas' own daughter of all people voicing these concerns had his eyes narrowing with suspicion as he turned to her and asked, "Why do you care what happens to me?"

She clearly wasn't expecting that question and avoided his gaze before answering, "Because I need you."

Sandy brows jumped high on his forehead but the princess was already speaking again, "No! No, not like that! I need a champion, and you're a champion. You slayed the dragon and defeated the Behemoth all without even getting a scratch. I need you to help me get back something I lost. Something precious."

James internally cursed the legacy he'd accepted from Rumplestiltskin as Abigail's hopeful baby blue irises focused on him. Every second he wasted standing here instead of going to Snow was pure torture but he couldn't just abandon the woman he'd promised to marry when she was begging him for help, his conscience would never allow it.

"Your father has a vast military, I'm sure you could find a worthy champion among them that would happily handle whatever task you set them," he tried again, but hadn't even finished the sentence before she was vehemently shaking her head, long glittering earrings slapping her neck with the movement.

"No, my father would never permit it."

Brow furrowing with frustration—and a bit of curiosity—the prince finally snapped, "What exactly is this task you need me for?"

"In the mountains half a day's ride north from here there is a lake called Nostos, the waters of which are said to cure any mortal ailment. But the lake is guarded by a fearsome creature that only the strongest of men can hope to face and live to tell the tale. Go to Lake Nostos and bring me water from it and in return I will see to it that my father will never come after you...or the woman you love."

James' expression darkened at those last words but there wasn't a trace of threat to be found in Abigail's features, in fact, her face betrayed nothing but sympathy.

"How do you..."

"You're not the only one who loves someone you can't be with," she interrupted in a whisper, eyes taking on a faraway look.

He couldn't help the surprise from showing on his face at her confession.

"I know how I seem. Spoiled, selfish, shallow…and I am those things. Or I was. But then I fell in love and for the first time I started to think about someone other than myself. And then I lost him." Tears formed in her eyes and she turned away, hands wiping at her cheeks only after her back was turned.

"His name was Frederick and he was one of my father's knights. His best actually. One day we were ambushed in the woods outside our kingdom and he pushed my father out of the way of the attack. But he'd gotten too close to my father's hand and..." She didn't need to continue, they both knew full well the effects of Midas' touch.

An awkward silence descended upon the room as James stared after the princess, as though only just now truly seeing her. No wonder Abigail was always so cold and withdrawn from him, she was being forced into a union she didn't want just as much as he was. It floored him that he, born a poor shepherd, actually had something in common with the Ice Princess of all people.

"So," the blonde began, clearing her throat to cover the tremor in her voice as she faced him, "do we have a deal?"

"Yes," he replied immediately, wanting to do something for the woman he'd completely misjudged. "But what are you going to tell Midas to keep him from coming after me?"

Her face broke into a victorious smile—the first genuine one he'd ever seen from her—as she said, "The truth, or at least a version of it. That you found out I loved someone else and called the wedding off all because of me. If I'm to blame my father will be too focused on me to even think about going after you. And don't worry, I can handle him. I've had him wrapped around my little finger since birth."Abigail grinned reassuringly, seeing the worried expression contorting his features.

"So, what do you know about this lake guardian?" James asked, resting his sword against his thigh.

Abigail couldn't help but smile at the eagerness she could see shining in his blue eyes, knowing beyond a doubt that she'd made the right choice of a champion.

"How much do you know about sirens?"

XXX

Armed with the information Abigail had collected about the siren, James had slipped undetected to the stables then led his favorite horse, a young black stallion, through the path the knight he'd saved from the dragon cleared of guards for him to escape the castle. He'd ridden as though hell itself was after him all the way to the snow-capped mountains bordering King George's kingdom.

He'd expected to get colder the higher up the mountain he went but James actually found himself removing his thick, fur-lined riding cloak and leather gloves with beads of sweat collecting on his forehead as he entered a clearing not far from the apex of the tallest peak. The moon shone high overhead as he slowed his horse to a trot, swiping a hand across his wet brow. The distant babble of water reached his ears and he urged the stallion onward.

Soon the lush forest parted entirely, revealing Lake Nostos. James dismounted his horse and tied the reins to a thick branch a safe distance from the water's edge—he didn't want to walk all the way back down the mountain if this guardian was as dangerous as Abigail had said.

The young prince carefully approached the lake, a leather water skin in one hand while the other lingered over the hilt of his sword. Rocks crunched underfoot as he dropped to a crouch at the bank and plunged the container beneath the unnaturally blue water. Moonlight glinted strangely across the gently lapping waves but he ignored it in favor of checking the clearing for any sign of the siren, but none appeared. The lake was disturbingly placid, the only ripples in the glassy surface coming from his own water skin.

A sigh abruptly echoed around him and James shot to his full height, flinging the water skin back onto the rocky bank as his other hand clamped down on his sword. He waited, body tense and gaze searching for the guardian, but nothing more happened. The only sound to be heard was the distant calls of birds taking flight from the nearby trees.

"Where are you?" he demanded, eyes blue as the lake itself scanning the clearing. "Make yourself known to me!"

When no response came, he yanked his sword free and shouted, "Beast! Show yourself." James' gaze flicked from one side of the lake to the other and back as he held the blade ready at his side.

Suddenly a section of water in the very center of the lake began to bubble and he slipped into a fighting posture—bending the knee of his back leg and letting his weight rest on it—and tightened his grip on the hilt of his sword.

A beautiful woman in a flowing white dress with long blond hair adorned by a tiara of carved translucent crystal and woven silver emerged from the roiling water, hands held placidly at her sides.

"Here I am," she announced simply, a coy smile tipping her lips. "And what might your name be, handsome one?"

He watched warily as she sauntered barefoot across the lake toward him, her head quirked expectantly to the side. James barely managed to keep from answering her, his thoughts immediately going fuzzy at the sound of her silky voice. But he forced himself to focus, to remember what Abigail had told him. This was no ordinary woman standing before him. She wasn't technically even a woman.

"Would you like to know mine?" she continued, gaze leisurely roving up and down his body. "Because I can be anyone you want me to be."

"Stop," he commanded, bringing his sword up between them, the tip of the blade leveled at her throat. "I know what you are. You're a siren." She glanced down at his weapon as he spoke, eyeing it unconcernedly. "And your deceitful words are a spell meant to lure me to my death."

James could feel his resolve strengthening with the words, negating whatever glamour she'd begun to work on his mind. Get the water, kill the siren if he had to; he had only to finish this task and then he would be free. Free of the destiny others tried to impose upon him, free to be with Snow White. He kept the image of the woman he loved at the forefront of his thoughts to remind him of what it was he was fighting for.

The siren brushed his sword aside and stepped closer. "I would never hurt such a brave and powerful man like yourself," she replied, trailing a finger teasingly down his chest. "Not when there are so many other things we could do." Her tone was thick with implication—making it abundantly clear just what "other things" she had in mind—as she peered coquettishly at him from beneath lowered eyelashes, hand wandering to his stomach and beyond.

"I said stop!" James shouted, his free hand shooting out and catching her wrist, halting her hand's descent. "I will not fall prey to your deceptions," he vowed, meeting her sharp glare head on.

She grinned at him as though taking his words as a challenge and yanked her hand away, stepping backward. "Really? You're immune to me?" she asked incredulously.

The siren knelt down and cupped her hands in the lake then stood, arms raised high overhead as she let the water rain down onto her. Blond hair bled to ebony, bronze skin lightened to perfect porcelain before his eyes. All breath was stolen from his lungs when she lifted her head, revealing the face he'd recognize anywhere: Snow White.

Her eyes slowly opened, familiar green irises sparkling as her lips curved into a smile he knew all-too-well—it'd haunted his dreams and waking mind nonstop for a month now.

"Like me more now, Charming?"

His heart lurched at the nickname—only he and Snow knew about that, how could the siren?

"No…" James gasped desperately, head slowly shaking in disbelief. "You're not really her."

An expression of confusion washed over her face, head canting to the side as she watched him.

"It's an illusion. I know it's not real." But it sure as hell looked and sounded real, he couldn't help thinking.

"Sometimes illusions are better than truth," the faux-Snow began as she approached, hands held out to her sides. She only stopped once she could rest her palms on his chest, gazing up into his face with an expression of unmistakable longing. "Everything you want, that you can't have…I can give it to you." Her voice dropped to a seductive whisper as she circled him, hands dancing across the open collar of his shirt—fingers teasing the bare skin of his chest—then roving along his shoulders and up to stroke his hair.

He let out a ragged breath, eyes sliding closed at her touch, half enjoying the sensation of her hands on him so intimately, half praying for the strength to resist her.

"All you have to do..." she continued, moving to his other side, fingers tangling into the short strands at his nape. She came around to face him, heavy-lidded blue eyes finding cool green ones. "Is kiss me," her words were little more than a puff of air against his chin as she entwined her hands around his neck and leaned into him, bringing their lips into alignment.

He stared down into those entrancing emerald eyes, unable to tear his gaze away.

"I know you want to, I can feel it."

"No," James argued, resistance rapidly crumbling. He could no longer remember exactly why he shouldn't kiss her. Everything in him screamed for him to do just that, to finally know how those crimson lips of hers would taste.

She closed the remaining distance between them instead, soft lips seeking out his. The instant their mouths met he was lost, breathing her in as he kissed her back. The kiss deepened and he barely noticed his grasp on his sword slackening, too focused on the feel of her tongue brushing against his own to care as the hilt slipped completely through his fingers; the splash of it dropping into the lake drowned out by the tiny moan that escaped her lips. His arms wrapped around her of their own volition, hands settling at the small of her back.

Snow broke the kiss, a victorious grin splitting her lips as James leaned forward trying to bring their mouths back together. Her hands slid down his chest to take his hand as she led him across the water, smiling encouragingly as he blindly followed her.

They'd gone just a few steps when he blinked and the haze that'd invaded his mind the moment she looked at him with Snow's face seemed to lift. This wasn't Snow, this was the siren pretending to be her.

"No," he repeated again and abruptly stopped walking, the smile slipping off the faux-Snow's face as she stopped as well. "I don't want an illusion," James continued, conviction strong in his voice. "I want reality or nothing."

"And this doesn't feel real?" she asked, brow furrowing with hurt as she grasped his shoulders and drew him into another kiss, hand cupping the back of his neck to urge him closer. He was distantly aware of her shifting their positions so that she stood between him and the shore but was more concerned with the soft press of her curves against his body, his hand sliding up her back to hold her as close as possible.

When she retreated from the kiss, her eyes slowly opened, stare questioning as she looked up at him.

"Snow…" James whispered, awestruck that the woman he loved could ever possibly wonder at the power she held over him. He would die for her, kill for her, anything that she wanted; all she need do was ask.

She must've heard the submission in his tone because a wide grin broke over her face as she sighed with relief, "That's right. It's me." Her lips sought out his again, pulling away only to whisper against his mouth, "I love you."

The words he'd been dying to hear her say for too long now sent him into a frenzy, a harsh breath escaping as he reclaimed her lips in an open-mouthed kiss. But something just didn't feel right, confusion breaking across his face as his eyes snapped open.

_"I don't. Love you. I don't. I'm sorry."_

Snow's flat rejection of him just days before crashed over him like a bucket of ice water, clearing his mind instantly. How fitting that the words that'd been killing him since that day would now save his life_. _

She wasn't Snow.

This wasn't love.

She was a siren and intended to seduce him only as a means to kill him.

James wrenched his mouth from hers and held her at arm's length. "No, it's not you."

"Yes, it is. I love you," she entreated desperately, wide green eyes staring up at him. Her hands tightened around his collar, using her hold to shake him.

"No. This is not real love. I've felt it. And this isn't it." He shoved her away in disgust, watching the wide-eyed pseudo-innocence give way to a glare. "I know the difference," James declared fiercely, blue eyes clear and completely free of the siren's thrall.

A grin twisted her lips as she stared up at him and said, "Congratulations, Prince Charming. You're the first."

She then launched herself at him, deceptively delicate hands clamping down on his chest and dragging him beneath the lake's surface. She pulled him deeper, straight to the rock-strewn bottom. Something glinted in the shafts of moonlight filtering through the water and he nearly choked as realization dawned. Among the rocks littering the lake floor were skeletons as far as the eye could see, tarnished silver and bronze armor catching the weak light and winking at him ominously—a warning of the price of the lake's magic.

Water flooded his mouth but he managed to yank himself free of the siren's grasp and swim for the surface.

Halfway there, a long frond of seaweed ensnared his ankle and hauled him back down. James tore at the thick plant, fingers slipping ineffectually off the slimy surface. His head pounded as the last bits of oxygen in his lungs bubbled out of his mouth, the siren closing in to finish him off.

Vision darkening, he'd almost resigned himself to his fate—saying a wordless apology to his mother, to Abigail, but most of all to Snow, for failing them—when the flash of something metal half-buried in the pebbles at his feet caught his eye. The siren was almost to him now but he still reached for it, her hands curling into his doublet and yanking him to her just as his own closed around the cold hilt of the dagger.

She pressed her mouth to his and forced his lips open, syphoning off what little air he had left.

The prince sucked in a breath from her mouth and plunged the blade into her stomach, feeling her stiffen against him. James yanked the dagger free as she sunk to the floor, dark red blood pouring from the wound and staining the water around them. He couldn't help but linger over her, watching those green eyes—the eyes of the woman he loved—dull and fade, a brief pang flowing through him at the sight of her like that until her body began to shimmer, hair turning pale as the siren returned to her true form.

James cut through the weed knotted around his ankle and shot to the surface, lungs screaming for oxygen.

XXX

Abigail already waited in the section of forest surrounding Midas' kingdom where she'd told him to meet her when James arrived, torchlight glinting off the golden armor of a knight he could only assume to be Frederick. She turned at the sound of his approach, a wild hope forming in her eyes at the sight of him arriving not only alive, but not empty handed. Her relieved laughter echoed through the trees as he dismounted his horse and joined her before the shrine to the fallen knight.

"Water from Lake Nostos, as requested," he announced, grinning as he presented her with the water skin.

She hesitated only a moment before accepting it, as though worried her miracle would disappear in a puff of smoke at her touch. "Remarkable! But how did you manage to slay the beast?" the blond princess questioned, gazing up at him in wonder.

"Well, the fate of your true love was at stake. I knew it was a battle I couldn't afford to lose," James answered, choosing not to mention aloud that it was his love for Snow that'd gotten him through the task alive, just in case the rumors about the water's healing abilities were exaggerated. Plastering a reassuring smile on his face, he motioned for her to give the cure a try.

Barely breathing, Abigail stepped onto the wooden shrine she'd had erected to her lost love after her father had given up hope of his faithful knight ever being revived, and uncapped the water skin. She poured the water down onto the crown of his head, his face forever hidden from her by his helmet, pulse pounding as she waited for a change, any change. Her heart sank as she neared the bottom of the container with still no discernible transformation taking place.

True love's kiss hadn't saved her Frederick, so why would this be any different?

But just as she was certain she'd sent James on a fool's errand, the surface of Frederick's helmet began to shimmer. Soon his entire suit of armor followed, the gold running down his body in rivulets, revealing ordinary gleaming metal. He collapsed to his knees once he was finally freed from his golden prison, frozen joints too weak to hold him upright any longer.

Abigail dropped down beside him, lifting his head and removing the helmet, desperate to see his face after so many years without it. She couldn't help the raw cry that escaped her when his eyes met hers, focused and alive. The princess immediately pressed a kiss to his lips, needing to feel him against her skin to reassure herself this wasn't just a dream.

Frederick returned her kiss, mouth warm and soft beneath hers. No longer cold, hard and sharp-edged. _Real._

James had done it! He'd returned her true love to her!

"Abigail?" Frederick asked once she'd finally broken the kiss. "What happened to me?" His eyes were confused, as though he hadn't been aware of all the time that'd passed since he'd been taken from her.

"You were trapped. But now you're free!" She almost shouted the words, overjoyed that they were finally reunited, before kissing him again. The princess didn't think she would ever be able to stop kissing him, although the smile that spread across his lips when she pulled away told her Frederick would have absolutely no problem with that.

He looked up, eyes focusing on something over her shoulder, and Abigail turned, remembering that James was still there, gaze respectfully averted from the couple.

"This is James," she explained, rising to her feet, her hand never leaving Frederick's as he stood as well. "He's the one who freed you."

Her knight stepped forward, extending his other hand to the older prince. "I am forever indebted to you."

"Well pay me back by walking down the aisle with someone you truly belong with," James' eyes cut to Abigail as they shook hands, a knowing grin on his face, "and perhaps," he continued, nodding to where his black stallion panted, "giving me a fresh horse and supplies for a journey as well."

"Done," Frederick agreed immediately, all-too-happy to oblige any request the man who'd returned him to the woman he loved could possibly make.

"Thank you," Abigail breathed, gratitude fervent in her voice as she clasped James' hand in both her own, "s_o much_."

At that moment, the sound of horses and men wearing armor filled the woods; gold-clad knights rushed toward the trio with swords drawn.

"Abigail?" Midas' voice rang out over the din. "What are you doing out here in the middle of the…" he trailed off at the sight of his daughter standing at the shrine where he'd found her countless times before, but for the first time ever she wasn't alone. Prince James and Frederick stood beside her, the latter not covered in gold as he had been since the day he'd sacrificed his life for his king.

"Frederick? Is that—? You're alive?! How—how is that possible?" the usually composed king stammered as he all but fell off his horse in his haste to see for himself if his prized knight were truly back among the living.

"Your Highness," the man in question began, dipping his head respectfully, "I am not sure how or even why, but yes, I am alive. Thanks to this man, James," Frederick finished, clapping a hand on the prince's shoulder.

Midas stumbled onto the shrine, reaching out with his non-cursed hand to touch the knight and confirm what his eyes told him. Beneath the armor Frederick wore flesh and bone moved. His champion and his daughter's one-time fiancé lived and breathed. The king turned his gaze to his daughter, watching unbridled joy radiate from her face; if he'd had any further questions about the truth of the situation the expression on Abigail's face would've answered them all.

She hadn't smiled, especially not like that, since the moment Frederick had been lost to her.

His daughter's smile was infectious, spreading to Midas' face as well as he turned to the prince. "James, not only did you free my beloved Abigail from our marriage contract without reprisal but you rescued Frederick, my greatest knight and the love of my daughter's life. How could I possibly begin to thank you for all you have done?"

"I only wished for Abigail to marry the one she loves so that I may be free to do the same, Majesty."

"Indeed you shall. But a prince of such strength, kindness and honor is too valuable an ally to waste. If our kingdoms cannot be united by marriage, then perhaps they can both benefit from a friendship," Midas said, and before James could protest—as he had no desire to continue the charade of being prince, only to find Snow White and spend the rest of their lives together away from King George and her stepmother, the Queen—he'd stepped forward and grabbed James' hand. "From this day forward, I pledge my kingdom's allegiance to yours, Prince James. In times of war, we will fight with you. In times of hunger, we will send food. In every way possible, my kingdom will return to you the kindness you have bestowed upon my daughter and my champion."

James was speechless, mouth opening and closing like a dying fish as he racked his brain for the right words to escape this newest entanglement. But looking at all the grateful smiling faces around him, Frederick embracing Abigail and nodding at him over her head, he found that all he could do was nod as well.

"Thank you, King Midas. I would be honored to ally myself with your resourceful daughter and her brave knight." He forced a tight smile, fighting to keep his true sentiments from showing on his face.

"Well then! It is settled!" the king exclaimed, throwing his hands in the air. "Come, daughter, we have a long overdue wedding to plan."

Abigail and Frederick stepped down off the shrine, following her father but the princess paused once she reached James. "You're off to find Snow White now, aren't you?" She grinned when he nodded, tightening her grip on Frederick's arm. "How will you know where to find her?"

"Well, a bird helped me track her down once. Hopefully it can again."

"Well, then good luck."

James flashed her a genuine smile and nodded goodbye to both Abigail and Frederick, the couple still inseparable.

XXX

With a few words from Frederick, James had been provided a fresh horse as well as food and water for three days. He returned to King George's realm only to obtain the pigeon he'd sent with the letter to Snow to follow its path to her. The bird lead him to a clearing hidden deep in the forest where only a small, rough-hewn cabin stood.

"Snow! Snow White!" the prince shouted, drawing his grey and white stallion to a stop and swinging himself down out of the saddle. There was no sign of her at his call, but he still ran toward the house, crying out her name at the top of his lungs, "Snow! Are you there?"

"She's gone," a voice abruptly answered behind him and James spun, hopeful blue eyes landing on a red-clad brunette carrying a basket of food with her into the clearing. "She never came back after she went to find you."

His gaze dropped, mind racing. Where could Snow possibly have gone? Was she in danger? Did King George do something to her after she left the castle? No, he wouldn't have hurt her. He had no reason to after forcing her to tell James she didn't love him. Snow must've left on her own. She was safe. She _had _to be safe. Fear churned in his stomach, nearly crippling him. If anything happened to Snow...he didn't think he could live with himself.

When James had finally managed to somewhat calm his raging heartbeat and look up at the young woman in the red hooded cloak, he found her staring at him, a worried but expectant expression on her face.

"Then I'll find her," he vowed, blue eyes resolute. "I will always find her."

A warm smile curled the brunette's lips as she watched him run back to his horse, haul himself up into the saddle and race off.

"Go and get her, Prince Charming," Red murmured to the wind, wanting nothing more than for her friend to find the same happiness that Snow had helped her attain with Peter. And if the determination she'd seen flash in James' blue eyes was any indication, the ultimate form of happiness—true love—was rapidly on its way to finding Snow.

XXX

Snow White had been staring at a tear in the curtains separating her bedchamber from the seven dwarfs'—her mind not truly even in the room—almost the entire morning when a commotion in the front room drew her attention back to Earth.

"Where's Snow? Where is she?" Grumpy's voice demanded urgently moments after the front door slammed. A second later the usually sullen dwarf came bounding through the cottage, calling her name with an uncharacteristic amount of joy in his tone, "Snow! Snow! The royal wedding, the kingdom's abuzz, it's off, Snow! He left her! James left Abigail!" He came to a stop at her bedside, gesturing wildly.

She just blinked at him, the words not seeming to register.

"Did you hear me? Your Prince Charming's not getting married." Grumpy nodded at her meaningfully, the first smile she'd ever seen him give spreading across his face.

"Who?" Snow asked, an oblivious grin tipping her lips at his excitement.

The smile literally fell off Grumpy's face as he took in the blank, anesthetized look in the young woman's usually vibrant green eyes. His gaze slid over to the bottle on the nightstand that'd been full of a milky blue substance last he'd seen it; the phial now indisputably empty and turned on its side.

_Oh, dear gods, no,_ the dwarf thought, stomach turning leaden.

This was all his fault. He never should've left her alone to go into the village for any news about the prince's wedding. No one knew better than Grumpy how a broken heart tore a person up inside and he'd just left her there with that damned potion sitting right beside her bed. He'd promised to protect her and he'd failed on the most basic level: he hadn't protected Snow from herself. He might as well have poured the potion down her throat himself.

Grumpy might not have wanted to be rid of his pain, but his wasn't anything new. The dwarf's heart was just as broken as the princess', but he'd learned to live with the ever-present ache. Snow's heart was freshly shattered and bleeding, every heartbeat driving the shards that much deeper.

Of course she'd jumped at the first opportunity to make that torment stop.

"Grumpy? Is something wrong?" Snow interrupted his thoughts, concern bisecting her brow at the abrupt shift in his mood.

"N-Nothing," he managed to croak out, clearing his throat before he continued wearily, "Nothing you need to worry about now, Snow."

The dwarf turned on his heel and left her bedchamber, unable to stomach the artificial bliss on her face a second longer.

Maybe this was a blessing in disguise, he tried to convince himself as he stormed out of the cottage, grabbing his ax along the way to take out his frustration on a nearby rotted tree. At least she wasn't in pain anymore. The tortured sound of her sobs the night before echoed in his memory as he swung the ax, strengthening his argument. But then he remembered the news he'd just delivered to Snow.

James had left Abigail.

And unless Grumpy was very much mistaken about how the prince felt about the young woman back in the cottage, the dwarf needed only one guess as to where James would be headed next and what he was looking for.

Or rather, _who_.

**A/N:** Well, that's all for now! Hope you enjoyed my first attempt at _OUaT_! I'm planning to carry this story through Snow and James' reunion and beyond—although it's unlikely I'll follow the show continuity exactly. 1x10 was the real impetus to me writing this and it spawned an entirely different take on what might happen to Snow and James with the potion and his leaving Abigail and of course how the Queen will react to finding out that Snow has fallen in love. So pretty much everything up to and including 1x10 is the canon I'm going off of with bits of other eps sprinkled in where appropriate.

However, I do have a question: Would you like to see me follow 1x16 as to Snow's actions after taking the potion? I was very surprised and intrigued to hear the spoilers about that ep and although that wasn't at all what I was thinking about doing with her here, it wouldn't be difficult to incorporate that at all. So please, lovely readers, put your two cents in, should Snow go all _Kill Bill _here, yay or nay?

Well if you liked this insane little alternate version of events, there's just one way to let me know and ask for more: REVIEW, REVIEW, REVIEW! lol Reviews are food for the writer, so please "feed me, Seymour!" ;-}

Thanks for reading!

Sassy18


	2. Chapter Two: Blood, Tears and Gold

**Breathe Again**

**A/N:** Wow! Thanks for such a warm reception into the fandom Oncers! And a huge thanks to everyone who put their two cents in about if I should follow the 1x16 continuity or not; y'all were an incredible help! Also, after watching 1x15 and 1x16, there will be some differences in the continuity from here on out as well (notably how things turn out for Red and Peter, and Snow knowing about taking the potion). So consider this a slight AU, although I try to put in as much of the show as possible. It's simply too awesome not to! ;-}

**Disclaimer:** I own exactly zero point zero percent of _Once Upon a Time_, but this chapter does contain spoilers/dialogue/references up to and including the finale.

**Rating:** Teen (violence, language, dark/suggestive themes and some gore)

**Special Thanks:**

**KayleeThePete**, my amazing beta and sounding board! This girl is a freakin' rock star people, and if you haven't read Once Upon a Time and Again or Hot Chocolate GO DO IT RIGHT NOW! I mean, finish this chapter first, and _then_ go read her stuff. Trust me, it is well worth it.

**People who alerted my story: **Anuxi, Emi Tonks Cullen, thistwinklingstar, Heartie, Oncer Swarek Jate Baze Girlscout22, rikubean, lux thebarbarionwarrior, TruLuv, ubercast, AvidReaderAshley, Little. Miss. Peach, KayleeThePete, hysteric, Madje Knotts, emerald sorceress, AllIsFairInLoveAndWar, Rosie-Everdeen-Potter, Ashlinka, pathways, Lo'Laan, Damara, SammieSpy, and saku-lee.

**People who listed my story as a favorite: **bulmettina, Oncer Swarek Jate Baze Girlscout22, AvidReaderAshley, KayleeThePete, DCdreamer55, BlackShadowKat, Lady Elena Bella Petrova, b0124, Damara, GracefulReader, and ginnyandharrylove2302.

**Person who favorited me as an author: **Oncer Swarek Jate Baze Girlscout22.

**People who alerted me as an author: **Oncer Swarek Jate Baze Girlscout22, hysteric, and Damara.

**People who reviewed: **thistwinklingstar, Oncer Swarek Jate Baze Girlscout22, drake, RhapsodyinBlack, KayleeThePete, DCdreamer55, BlackShadowKat, Lady Elena Bella Petrova, Lo'Laan, and saku-lee.

**Written While Under the Influence of: **Sara Bareilles-Breathe Again, Hurts-Blood, Tears and Gold, Ida Maria-Bad Karma, U2-With or Without You, Neurosonic-Fearless, Breaking Benjamin-Breath, Red-Already Over, Ingrid Michaelson-Keep Breathing, AC/DC-Back in Black, Guns N Roses-Sympathy for the Devil, AC/DC-Highway to Hell, Kyla La Grange-Vampire Smile, Ingrid Michaelson-Turn to Stone, Ben Cocks-So Cold, Papa Roach-No Matter What, Red Jumpsuit Apparatus-Your Guardian Angel, The Civil Wars-Poison & Wine, Vast-Touched, Duran Duran-Hungry Like the Wolf, Florence + the Machine-Howl, Jack White feat. Alicia Keys-Another Way to Die, Sounds Under Radio-All You Wanted, Breaking Benjamin-Give Me a Sign, and Florence + the Machine-Seven Devils.

**Chapter Two: Blood, Tears and Gold**

_"When love goes cold_

_Blood, tears and gold_

_Won't make it any better_

_I never let you down, baby, baby _

_I never let you down, baby, baby_

_And it won't get any better_

_Blood, tears and gold."_

—_Hurts, "Blood, Tears and Gold"_

Snow White perched on the edge of her bed with an old leather-bound book of poems and tales—the author's name long since stolen from the cover by time—open on her lap as she waited for the dwarfs to return home from the diamond mine. She'd closed up all the shutters despite the acute sensation of being caged in an attempt to block out the temptation of the forest, open and inviting, that lay just beyond the windowsill. The chores the raven-haired princess assigned herself to keep from going stir crazy seemed to fly by faster and faster with each passing day spent cooped up in the cottage, unable to set foot outside the protection of its four walls for fear of being recognized and leaving her entirely too much time to think.

And spending time in her own head was exactly what Snow _didn't _want to do, so she'd taken to working her way through the thick tome, bypassing the sonnets and comedies immediately. She flipped aimlessly through the book until finally settling on a tale that suited her: A young prince haunted by the ghost of his murdered father demanding vengeance.

She devoured the tragedy whole, pulse thundering in her ears, until the last lines of a single monologue had her slamming the book down and all but leaping off the bed:

_"How stand I then, _

_That have a father kill'd, a mother stain'd, _

_Excitements of my reason and my blood, _

_And let all sleep? _

_...O, from this time forth, _

_My thoughts be bloody, or be nothing worth!" _

Snow stripped off the long white gown she'd taken to wearing among the dwarfs, angrily tearing the red ribbon Dopey had surprised her with the day before from her hair, heedless of the strands of her long black curls that ripped out with it. She flung the discarded clothing at the open book on the mattress and rapidly changed into her threadbare shirt and worn buckskins, the supple material hugging her like a second skin. If she weren't so furious she might've enjoyed the comfort and familiarity of donning her woodland attire but all the rogue princess felt at the moment was pure rage. Rage so potent she could hardly contain it.

Her breath came in harsh pants as she savagely yanked on her boots then retrieved her rucksack from the corner. She stuffed her cloak along with some food and a water skin inside before marching purposefully toward the door.

She'd almost reached it when her eyes alighted on an abandoned pickax propped against one of the dwarfs' beds. The word "Stealthy" could just barely be made out etched into the wood. A grin twisted her blood red lips as she turned on her heel and collected the ax, lifting it into the meager light filtering through the shutters to better see the long sharp point.

_Perfect._

Snow slung the ax handle over her shoulder as she yanked open the door to the cottage then stepped past the threshold, a rebellious thrill running through her. She wasn't hiding anymore.

Let them recognize her and go running to the Evil Queen with tales of Snow White's whereabouts. It made no difference to her if she were found or if she caught her stepmother by surprise because she no longer feared the Queen's wrath. The young frightened girl that had wept on Regina's shoulder at her father's funeral—unknowingly seeking comfort from the very woman who orchestrated the king's death—and fled from the Huntsman into the woods, wishing only to escape and survive however she could, was gone.

She was something else entirely now.

Someone to whom mere survival meant little, for what good was survival if it meant spending the rest of her life hiding in cramped dark corners, locked in a prison with shutters instead of bars, when she _wasn't _the one who had committed cold-blooded murder? Better to die free having avenged her father's murder than live a thousand lifetimes running scared from an evil witch who fancied herself a queen.

Snow strode chin held high into the forest, green eyes coldly calculating how she planned to infiltrate the castle—_her _castle—and do what she should've done the moment she learned the truth about her father's death: kill the Queen.

XXX

James had bribed, hounded, used every ounce of charm he possessed, and when that failed threatened extreme violence to gather any information about where Snow might've gone after she'd left King George's palace four days ago. Saddle sore from riding non-stop through the night and barely able to keep his eyes open, he still led his equally tired horse through the woods. He had one last lead in the area to check out: a dwarf who'd escaped the dungeon around that same time and was rumored to have taken in a houseguest of the female persuasion.

It was a long shot, yes, but he wouldn't stop until he found her. Or passed out flat on his face from exhaustion, whichever happened first.

A tendril of smoke wafting up above the treetops directed him onward to the dwarfs' tiny cottage, his stomach rumbling at the smell of cooking meat pouring out of the chimney to remind him that he'd also neglected to eat all day. The sandy-haired prince forced the thought away as he tied his horse to a fencepost and cautiously approached the front door; he'd eat and sleep after he found Snow, although those actions would probably be the farthest things from his mind the moment he laid eyes on her.

James rapped his knuckles across the heavy wood and scrubbed a weary hand over his face, fingers catching on the prickly stubble dusting his jaw, in a futile attempt to wipe the exhaustion from his features. The door swung inward almost the instant he'd pulled his hand away, the rapid movement just about shocking him out of his skin.

"Snow?" a gruff voice asked, heavily laced with concern as the bearded, ruddy face it belonged to appeared in the doorway.

"No," the prince replied, heart jack-hammering wildly with hope. "I'm James."

"Oh. It's _you_."

Confusion washed over him at the dwarf's tone but he continued speaking before James could ask about it, "You might as well come in and have a seat. I'll get you a drink because believe me you're going to need it." He opened the door wide in invitation.

The young man ducked his head to clear the low-hanging doorway and stepped inside the cottage, finding half a dozen other dwarfs clustered around two small tables that'd been pushed together to form a much longer one all staring up at him with matching expressions of sympathy.

"What's going on? Where's Snow?" he demanded, suddenly more awake than he'd been in his entire life courtesy of the panic flowing freely through his veins.

"Sit down and drink this first," the dwarf who'd opened the door instructed, placing a mug down at a vacant spot on the table.

James frowned at the non-answer but hurried to comply, carefully perching his too-tall form on the edge of the bench and taking a long drink of the proffered amber liquid, grimacing at the strong burn of alcohol down his throat.

"I'd have offered you coffee instead but I don't think you need any more excitement right now. I'm Grumpy," the dwarf said, heaving a sigh as he settled in the seat across from him.

"Where's Snow?" the prince repeated, blue eyes boring into Grumpy as though he could simply take the truth from the shorter man's mind by sheer will.

"We don't know. She was here when we left for the mines this morning but by the time we got back for dinner she was gone."

James was instantly on his feet, almost overturning the entire bench with the sudden motion and nearly spilling the bespectacled dwarf seated beside him onto the floor. Worry and frustration ignited the powder keg that'd been building inside him for days now, prompting him to turn on his heel and clamp his hands around the mantel to stave off the supremely tempting urge to hit something.

Grumpy muttered to the other dwarfs and they quietly filed out the doorway, leaving him alone with the prince.

"What happened? Tell me everything," James bit out, still not controlled enough to release his death grip on the mantel—or his sanity—and face the dwarf.

"She took a potion Rumplestiltskin made to erase her pain after King George forced her to leave you. But it erased her memory too," Grumpy paused, watching as the young man's shoulders slumped inward—reacting to the news as though it were a physical blow—and mentally debating if he should tell him the rest or not. After a moment of tense silence he continued, because if it were him, he'd want to know, "Snow doesn't remember you. At first she seemed better, happier. But I could see in her eyes that she was still sad, the potion just numbed it. Buried her pain so deep that she couldn't remember why she _shouldn't _be happy."

James could barely breathe; it felt like each word the dwarf spoke tore a hole through his chest. He wanted to turn around and beg him to stop but was afraid if he let go of the mantel that he'd quite literally fall apart.

Snow didn't remember him.

"Come on, I need to show you something." Grumpy motioned for the prince to follow him farther into the house and James numbly trailed after him, only half-conscious of his feet moving.

The dwarf led him into a bedchamber at the back of the cottage, cordoned off from the rest of the house with white drapes. A cream-colored dress lay abandoned on the bed, a glossy crimson ribbon cutting across the fabric like a bloody wound. James stepped closer, hand reaching out of its own accord to touch the dress, almost hoping to feel the lingering warmth of her body trapped in the cloth but it had long since gone cold. He lifted the ribbon up into the candlelight, eyes focusing on the long strands of hair black as night caught in the bow.

James rubbed the curls between his fingers, feeling their silky texture as he brought the bow up to his nose, desperately inhaling her scent.

"She might've left on her own because her rucksack and cloak are missing along with some food," Grumpy offered, trying his best to sound hopeful.

The prince blinked back tears and shoved the bow inside his doublet—fingers brushing against the letter still pressed to his heart—clinging to whatever piece of Snow he could find as all hope threatened to desert him. If she'd left on her own maybe he could track her down. He'd managed to follow her thus far...

_But had also been too late at every turn_, a voice in the back of his head taunted.

"Do you have any idea where she might've gone?" James croaked, voice raw and hoarse as though he'd been screaming his lungs out instead of fighting just to keep breathing.

"No, she didn't tell us she was even thinking about going anywhere and we haven't found a note either."

"So that's it then. Snow's gone, in body and mind," the young man muttered under his breath, for the first time actually considering giving up. If she didn't remember him then what was the use of fighting anymore? There was nothing _left _to fight for now.

Grumpy's hand abruptly slapped hard against the back of his head, the dwarf's perpetual scowl deepening.

"Ouch!" James seethed, rounding on the shorter man and rubbing the sore spot on his skull where he was sure he'd have a knot come morning. "What the hell was that for?"

"To smack the stupid out of ya," Grumpy shot back, completely unfazed by the fact that he'd just struck a member of the royal family. "I'm not going to stand here and defend her decision to take that potion, because right or wrong it's over and done with. But if you're willing to let something as minor as a potion or a little distance stand between you and the woman you love then you must be stupid. I've seen how much Snow loves you and if you aren't willing to fight for that…then you don't deserve her," he finished quietly, head shaking disgustedly as he exited the bedchamber.

James clenched his jaw to keep from shouting every profanity he knew after the dwarf. Who the hell was he to tell him he hadn't fought for Snow? That's _all _he'd been doing! Fighting George, fighting the siren, and riding all over the realms searching for her. But how the hell was he supposed to fight _this_? This wasn't a dragon or a person he could fight face to face—that much he knew how to do—so how was he to even begin fighting a memory, or rather the lack thereof? If a person's memories made them who they were, wasn't the Snow he'd fallen in love with as good as gone now? And even if he could make her remember him, he'd have to find her first and he had no earthly idea where she might've gone.

The prince gave a growl of frustration and unleashed every emotion he'd been holding back since learning the truth at the wedding on the stone wall behind him, ramming his fist over and over into the rock until his knuckles split and bled. His anger melted away all-too-quickly, leaving James with only sorrow to fill the gaping hole in his heart as he collapsed on the bed, anguished sobs shaking his entire body and tears streaming down his face.

Snow was gone.

James reached for her discarded dress but as he lifted it he caught sight of something hidden beneath the sea of fabric. He tossed the dress aside and grabbed the old leather-bound book instead, swiping the back of his uninjured hand across his eyes to clear his watery vision enough to read the page. His blood ran cold when he reached the bottom, insight flashing through his mind like lightning.

_"How stand I then, _

_That have a father kill'd, a mother stain'd, _

_Excitements of my reason and my blood, _

_And let all sleep? _

_...O, from this time forth, _

_My thoughts be bloody, or be nothing worth!"_

He knew exactly why Snow had left and what she intended to do now.

The first time they'd met she'd all but told him that she planned to one day kill the Queen, but she'd already used up her best weapon saving his life from the trolls on the bridge. Now she was under the influence of Rumplestiltskin's potion, which James was certain had a price Snow was entirely unaware of, and reading about a prince killing his stepfather.

Even if she didn't remember him James couldn't stand by and let her do something to get herself killed. And maybe, just maybe, he could find a way to reverse the effects of the potion along the way. It wasn't like he had anything left to lose at this point by trying.

And he had a very good idea of where to look for a way to get his Snow back.

James was off the bed and out the door of the cottage in five long strides, hand dripping a trail of blood in his wake, so focused on getting to his horse that he didn't notice Grumpy had followed him until the dwarf grabbed the reins, forcing him to stop.

"Where are you going?"

"To fight for the woman I love," James said simply, watching a relieved grin break across Grumpy's face before taking off like a shot into the woods, headed for Rumplestiltskin's castle.

"Well it's about damn time!" the dwarf shouted after him.

XXX

Snow lurked in the shadows, concealed by the trunk of a large tree, watching for any sign of movement behind her on the path through the forest well-traveled by Regina's knights. Her fingers were steadily going numb and she could feel the cold stabbing into her thighs like ice picks but stubbornly refused to move. Finally the sound she'd been waiting over an hour to hear filled the woods: the pounding of horse hooves on the frozen earth. She peeked out from behind the tree, a predatory grin tugging at her lips once she spotted the approaching black-clad knight, then ducked back out of sight, counting down until the perfect moment to pounce.

When she heard the horse reach her position Snow forced her frozen fingers to tighten around the rope she'd strung across the path and yank hard, clotheslining the knight and sending him flying backwards out of the saddle to slam onto the hard-packed ground. The breath whooshed from his lungs with the impact and she leisurely moved to strike while he was still too dazed to fight back.

The princess raised Stealthy's pickax and brought the blunted end down hard on the man's foot, an audible crunch letting her know she'd broken something, or maybe a couple somethings, she couldn't be sure which.

The knight screamed in pain, reaching for his injured foot.

Snow planted the ax blade down on the ground and leaned on the handle as she stood over him. "It'll heal," she began unconcernedly, "eventually."

The man turned a glare up to her, grimacing as he held onto his foot as though he expected more punishment to come—good, fear she could work with. "What do you want?"

"Information. Where's the Queen?" Snow demanded.

He let out a mirthless chuckle before replying, "And why would I tell you?"

The black-haired princess lifted the ax and crouched down so that she and the knight were at eye level. "Do you know what a diamond is? It's the strongest substance known to man or beast—beautiful, precious, nearly impervious to destruction," she explained, pausing to flash a disturbing little grin and lift a slim forefinger, "Nearly." Snow slowly rose and held the ax out in front of him so he could see it, especially the sharp pointed blade.

"This...this is an ax from the dwarf mines," she continued, eyeing her improvised weapon reverentially. She could hardly contain a laugh at how his eyes immediately widened and he began to ineffectually wriggle like a drowning fish on the ground—as if he could escape her that way.

"It's a special blade. It can, believe it or not, actually cut a diamond. Imagine what it can do to human flesh," her tone practically caressed the words, sweet as sugared poison, as she levered the ax over him, teasingly hovering it from head to toe and back as if trying to make up her mind about which part of his body she intended to test the blade on. "Soft, pliable, tender...flesh!" Snow drew the ax up over her shoulder, readying to bring the point right down on top of him.

"She's at her castle!" the knight blurted, halting her mid-swing. "But only for the night," he amended quickly. "In the morning, she leaves for the summer palace."

Snow again wound up to hit him, her beautiful face twisted into a bloodthirsty mask.

"Please!" he begged, pathetically raising a hand as if that could ward off the blow. "That's all I know."

She paused only for a moment, staring at him incredulously, before biting out through clenched teeth, "That summer palace was built for _my mother_!" With that Snow swung the ax, catching him with the blunted side across his forehead—wishing it were the Queen instead—and knocking him out cold.

In minutes she'd stripped the knight of all but his boots—which were too big to fit her, plus she couldn't even get the right one off over his swollen foot—and carried his cloak and armor to where his large black horse waited, tied by the reins to a tree. Snow fastened the knight's belt and sword around her own waist and readied to change into the rest of his clothing to complete the disguise that would get her into the palace when a voice abruptly spoke from the darkness.

"And just what exactly are you doing, dearie?"

She spun on her heel, sword singing out of its sheath, only to come face to face with the strangest little man she'd ever seen. He wore the fine clothes of a royal but his skin, hair and nails were all caked with grime and, if she were not mistaken, a fine gold dust.

"Nothing that concerns you," Snow replied, eyeing him warily over the point of the knight's stolen blade.

"If you fancy his clothes by all means take them, but I have to say that black really isn't your color." Spindly fingers gestured up and down her form, the movement almost lost in the bell sleeves of his faded brocade coat.

"And I should care what you think because?" she snapped, patience with this interruption already worn thin.

"Because those clothes can't get you what you want. I, however, _can_," the man sneered, flashing rotted teeth and giving a jaunty little giggle.

"How do you know what I want?" Curiosity flitted across her features but she never lowered her sword, not even a fraction.

"I want what you want, _Snow White_," he let her name roll off his tongue like a fine wine, completely unconcerned when she rushed forward and brought the blade to his throat, "The Queen dead. And I'm here to help you do it."

"Give me one good reason why I should trust you."

"The enemy of my enemy is my friend," the man responded simply, pinching her sword between his thumb and forefinger then gently lowering it. "And you're going to need all the help you can get, dearie. Rumplestiltskin, at your service." He bowed exaggeratedly, equal parts nobleman and jester.

"I've gotten this far on my own. And I _will _get into the castle and kill the Queen _my_ way, no one else's." Snow vowed, green eyes flashing defiantly.

"Hack her to pieces and put her head on a stick if you wish, _but_...just what makes you think you'll live long enough to do all that? Even if you manage to convince anyone that you're a male knight twice your size and get her away from her guards, what about her magic? What help will that ridiculous costume and those cumbersome weapons be to you then?"

Rumplestiltskin watched as his logic ate away at her resolve, fine dark brows furrowing contemplatively in that perfect porcelain face.

"_This_," he declared theatrically, pulling a bow and arrow seemingly from thin air, "is how you kill the Queen."

"But how will that help me get into the castle?"

"No, no, no. That's impossible. You have to kill her when she's on the move," he walked his fingers through the air, voice lilting. "When she's on her way...to the summer palace." The imp produced a map in the same manner as the weapon, unfurling it with a flick of his wrist and tapping a blackened nail to a hill overlooking a narrow portion of the Queen's highway. "Fire the arrow from this spot here and you'll be hidden from sight." He held the map out to her, unable to suppress a satisfied grin when she accepted it from him.

"An arrow fired from this bow will give you exactly what you need. It always finds its target!" Rumplestiltskin crowed, presenting her the weapon with a flourish and another maniacal giggle.

Snow sheathed the knight's sword at her waist then lifted the golden arrow into the light of the moon, admiring how it glinted off the razor-sharp tip, red lips curling into a feral smirk. Her expression quickly faded, eyes turning shrewd as she returned her gaze to the man. "So what do I have to do in return?"

"Do? You don't have to do anything, dearie."

"Everything comes with a price." Sharp green eyes searched his face for the truth, not buying the wide-eyed innocent act even for a second.

"Haven't you ever heard the expression 'don't look a gift horse in the mouth?'" Rumplestiltskin asked, greasy curls bouncing as he quirked his head to the side.

"I have. But I've also heard 'rich gifts wax poor when givers prove unkind.' So enough games. What's in this for you?" Her chin rose stubbornly, gaze glued to his face, determined to have an explanation for such aid from a complete stranger.

"Let's just say," he leaned in conspiratorially close, "I'm invested in your future." The grin he gave her would've been enough to freeze the blood in her veins...had Snow's heart not already been encased in ice.

XXX

The morning sun shone high in the sky when James flung open the doors of Rumplestiltskin's palace and strode through without ever breaking stride, cloak fluttering regally behind him. "Rumplestiltskin! Show yourself," he demanded, fingers instinctively curling around the hilt of his sword as his eyes cautiously scanned the marble entryway, finding it empty save for a massive stuffed bear and a couple suits of armor.

"Still dressing like a prince, I see," the master of the castle's voice abruptly sounded behind him and the "prince" spun to face him, "even though you ran away from the life I gave you. How's that for gratitude?" Rumplestiltskin calmly sauntered toward the blond young man, slowly circling the large round table acting as a barricade between them in the center of the room.

"You _gave _me a prison sentence," James spat, barely restraining the urge to draw his sword and run the damned imp through right then and there for everything he'd done to him and now Snow.

"Yeah, one that you've now skirted. Careful, dearie. King George is a vengeful man."

"I'm here about Snow and the potion you gave her," James pointedly redirected the conversation.

"Potion? Let me think..." he pursed his lips and tapped a finger to his chin, feigning deep thought. "Oh, you mean the one that took away her love? Left a big hole in her heart? That potion? Why yes, indeed," Rumplestiltskin goaded, stained teeth bared in a twisted smile as he planted his hands on the table and leaned toward the prince.

James' already tenuous grasp on his temper slipped and he yanked his sword free, training the blade on the smaller man and roaring, "What did you do to her?" He'd never entertained the thought of killing someone in cold blood before, but for Rumplestiltskin he found his conscience could all-too-easily make an exception.

"Ooh," Rumplestiltskin trilled, jumping backward in mock-fright and circling around the table toward him again. "What did _I _do to her? You mean what did _you _do to her?" He pointed an accusing finger at James, stabbing the air to emphasize his words. "_You_ caused her pain. Without that pain, she would never have drank my potion to forget about _you_. _That's _what changed her," he growled through gritted teeth, striding fearlessly forward until the point of the sword pressed right in the center of his chest.

"Undo the potion. All magic can be broken," the prince demanded, obstinately refusing to believe that the woman he loved was truly lost to him.

"Oh, yes, with twoo luv," the imp mocked.

"So that's it then? True love's kiss will awaken her?" Hope returned to James' face, a grin tugging at his lips. Thank the gods, there was still a way to bring Snow back.

"Most certainly," Rumplestiltskin assured him with a nod. "_But_...it's gonna be hard to kiss her when you don't know where she is." He slapped the sword aside, giggling, and strolled dismissively toward the stairs, letting the tension in the room mount until inevitably...

"Name your price," the former shepherd announced, right on schedule.

The imp could tell by the desperation tingeing the younger man's voice that James would sell him his very soul right now if he asked for it, but that wasn't what he was after. At least not _yet_. "How about...your cloak?" he offered instead, spinning on his heel.

"My cloak?" James questioned, brows knitting together in confusion. "Why would you want my cloak?" He was instantly suspicious of the seemingly innocuous request, knowing only too well that nothing was ever free with Rumplestiltskin, but what use could his cloak possibly be to the man? Or possible danger to him in the future?

"It's drafty in here," the imp replied with a giggle.

They stared each other down, neither man moving, both trying to read the other. Finally James reached up and, without taking his eyes off Rumplestiltskin, angrily yanked open the ties of his cloak, shrugging the fur-lined garment from his broad shoulders then tossing it onto the table behind him. "Where is she?"

"On her way to the Queen's highway. This," a map appeared at the imp's fingertips in a puff of purple smoke, "is the route she's taking. But you better be quick," James snatched the parchment away from him, eyes intently scanning it over, "because if she kills the Queen...she becomes as evil as the woman whose life she takes."

James shook his head and countered, voice resolute, "She could never become that evil." He glanced at the map once more before making his way to the door.

"Evil isn't born, dearie," Rumplestiltskin shouted after him. "It's made! And if Snow starts down that road, you'll never get her back," he finished in a singsong voice, watching as the prince raced through the doorway and out across the courtyard toward his horse.

The heavy wood doors slammed shut with a wave of his hand. Only then did the imp reach for the cloak, hands eager but reverent as he lifted it from the table and brought it to his nose, James' scent still strong in the fur-lined collar. A delighted giggle tumbled from his lips as he headed upstairs to his workshop, cloak in hand.

XXX

James dismounted his horse to get a better look at the tracks leading off into the snow toward the Queen's highway, kneeling and comparing them against his hand to size them. The boot prints were far too large to belong to Snow White. A twig snapping in the distance pulled his attention up from the ground and he drew his sword, leading his stallion slowly and quietly onward by its bridle. Farther down the path the prince discovered a man limping stark naked through the woods.

"Put your hands where I can see 'em," he ordered, keeping his sword at the ready in case this was a trap.

The man turned, both hands tightly holding his only covering, the distinctive black-feathered helmet of the Queen's knights, over his privates.

"Uh. O-on...second thought," James stammered quickly, cursing his poor choice of words as he tried to avoid getting an eyeful of something he most definitely did _not_ want to see, "Don't." Face screwing into a grimace, he reached behind him and grabbed the blanket he'd been using in lieu of his cloak off the saddle then tossed it to the man, turning away long enough for him to cover himself. "Who did this?"

The knight wasted no time trading his helmet for the blanket, wrapping it around as much of his bare flesh as he could to stave off the cold; visions of frostbite on a _very _specific body part had been running rampant through his mind since the moment he'd awakened wearing only his boots in the snow. "She's crazy. She had a pickax. She threatened to skin me," he panted, barely able to keep his teeth from chattering together.

"The Evil Queen?"

"No. Snow White."

James wasn't consciously aware of moving, but he suddenly found himself standing in front of the knight, blade pressed to his throat. "What?" he demanded through clenched teeth, furious at the accusation.

"She said she wanted to kill the Queen. I've never seen someone so bloodthirsty," the knight's words literally poured out now, any resistance he had left evaporating in the face of the absolutely livid expression of the man holding a very sharp sword to his bare skin.

"No," the prince growled as he twisted the blade, digging it deeper into the other man's neck without actually puncturing the skin. "Snow is not bloodthirsty. She is not a killer. I _know_ her."

"Maybe you don't," the knight replied, trying to move his throat as little as possible as he spoke.

James blinked slowly as the words sank in, heart sinking with the realization that it could be true. The Snow White he knew would've never even entertained the thought of such barbarism, but _this_ Snow was a complete stranger to him. He had no idea what she might be capable of under the potion's influence. Or who she could hurt to get what she wanted.

"Go," the prince muttered, lowering his sword enough to show he meant no harm. The other man just stared at him with wide eyes, unmoving. "I said go!" James shouted, rearing his arm back as if to strike. He watched as the knight turned and ran as best he could into the distance, all the while praying that he wouldn't be too late to save Snow from herself.

XXX

Snow White adjusted the oversized black cloak she'd stolen from the knight on her shoulders, kneeling in the snow-covered leaves and practicing with the bow to make sure the excess fabric wouldn't catch the string when she fired it. Satisfied that everything was in order, she lowered the weapon only for a pair of strong hands to envelop her, one covering her mouth while the other drew her backward against a hard chest. She immediately screamed but the sound came out muffled by the thick leather glove pressed to her lips.

The raven-haired princess managed to reach up and pry the hand away from her mouth—meeting surprisingly little resistance from her captor—and shouted at the top of her lungs, "Get your hands off me!"

"Snow!" the man who held her yelled back, struggling to turn her to face him without losing his grasp on her.

She fought back violently, growling like a cornered animal, twisting and jerking her body away from him but his hands kept a firm hold on her upper arms, refusing to let her go. "Who are you? What are you doing?!" she shrieked, green eyes locking on vivid blue irises set in a handsome face.

"I'm helping you remember," the sandy-haired man calmly answered and before she could say another word, he'd swooped down and covered her mouth with his own.

Her eyes flew open wide in shock and anger as the stranger kissed her, then scrunched tightly shut as she struggled to endure the forced contact without tearing his lips off with her teeth. She stared at him in question when he finally pulled away and said, "I told you, I will always find you." A wide grin broke across his face as though that alone explained everything that had just transpired.

Snow used his distraction to curl her hand around a thick branch beside them on the forest floor and abruptly clubbed him in the temple, knocking him flat on his back. Those blue, blue eyes stared up at her in a daze before falling shut as he lost consciousness.

XXX

James slowly came to, the left side of his head throbbing and Snow's beautiful face swimming into focus—so pale in the moonlight it seemed almost translucent against the jet black background of her hair and cloak—and he immediately lunged forward, her name on his lips. "Sn—" was all he got out before realizing that his body hadn't moved.

Glancing down in confusion, he found both arms outstretched and tightly bound to the tree at his back with rope. He gave his bonds a hard yank, barely gaining an inch of purchase from the knots. James turned a pained blue gaze back to Snow, still in utter disbelief that she'd not only knocked him out cold but also tied him to a tree.

Apparently _any _version of Snow was destined to hit him in the head with something the first time they met.

She'd jerked backward at his sudden awakening but now leaned over him once again, the prince's eyes following hers down to where she was thumbing open the ornate silver buckle of his belt. He couldn't help the direction his thoughts went at the sight of her hands in that particular area, eyebrows shooting for his hairline.

"Don't get excited," Snow muttered, seeming to read his thoughts, green eyes glinting with a tiny bit of the same wry humor he remembered from their previous encounter in the woods and sending his heart stuttering. "I'm just taking your sword off. Wouldn't want you to hurt yourself, now would we?" She flashed him a tight grin and whipped the belt off, carrying the sword and scabbard with her to her rucksack, dropping the weapon unceremoniously on the ground.

"So, you got a name, loverboy?" the woman he loved asked, not even a flicker of recognition on her face when she looked up from wrapping the spare length of rope into a bundle and stuffing it in the bag at her feet.

"Snow, it's _me, _James." Hurt infused his voice, practically begging her to remember him.

Something niggled at her memory as he spoke, a name to go with his face.

_"I told you, it's James." _

_"Nah, I still like Ch_—_"_

But an instant later the thought fled, melting from her mind like a snowflake on her tongue.

"I don't know any James," Snow replied, shaking her head to clear it of the wayward thought.

"This doesn't make any sense! True love's kiss should've restored your memories," he exploded, yanking on the ropes in frustration. This was all wrong; this wasn't even close to how things were supposed to go. He'd kiss her, she'd remember him, and they'd ride off into the sunset to live their happily ever after. Perhaps he'd been naïve to think it would've been as easy as that, but he'd never even entertained a scenario where he ended up with a possible concussion and trussed up to a tree like the lamb he and his father once staked out to trap a wolf.

James made a mental note to kill that damned lying imp on sight when next the opportunity presented itself.

A tiny laugh tumbled from her lips, breaking into his internal tirade, "True love's kiss? Wow, I must've hit you harder than I thought. There's no such thing as love at first sight, or first kiss." It was only then that it registered that he'd called her by name, her _real _name, for the second time that day. All humor leached from her expression as the princess reached down and grabbed his sword, unsheathing it as she strode toward him. "How do you know my name? Did the Queen send you after me?" Snow demanded, eyes narrowing with suspicion and he could literally see her guard sliding into place.

James barely had time to recover from the sucker punch of her reiterating some of the first words she'd ever spoken to him—Snow's audacious grin as she fearlessly mocked him, even though _he _was the one who'd captured _her _in a net, flickering through his memory—before she pressed the cold steel of his own blade to his throat.

Great, she viewed him as a threat. _Again. _

"The Queen didn't send me," James explained, resisting the urge to roll his eyes as he tried to diffuse this utterly ridiculous situation before it spiraled any further out of control. "I came on my own to find you. The dwarfs gave me an idea of where to look…"

"_Grumpy_ sent you after me?" Snow interrupted incredulously. "You expect me to believe that King George's son would do anything to help the very dwarf his own father falsely imprisoned?" At his look of confusion, she elaborated, "The crest on the hilt of your sword is of a lion," she held the hilt up so that he could see the lion etched mid-roar into the gold. "The lion is King George's symbol, and since you clearly aren't a king that'd make you his son, Prince James."

"Yes, I am." It hardly even felt like a lie anymore as he said it, and that _was_ how Snow had known him, but his jaw still clenched at the idea of claiming any association with that despot whatsoever.

"The same Prince James that Midas promised his daughter to in exchange for slaying a dragon?" A black eyebrow rose pointedly; that might explain why Regina would send him after her—an ordinary prince made no sense as an assassin, but a dragon slayer…

"Yes, but I broke off my engagement to Abigail—" he began, eager to assure Snow that no one else held any place in his heart but her.

"Wait a minute," she cut him off, brow furrowing with thought," Grumpy mentioned something about a James and an Abigail." Her face screwed up in concentration as she fought to recall the conversation, the memory seemingly shrouded in a thick haze.

_"Snow! The royal wedding, the kingdom's abuzz, it's off, Snow! He left her! James left Abigail! Did you hear me? Your Prince Charming's not getting married."_

The raven-haired princess staggered back as if burned, breathing heavily and warily eyeing the handsome blond prince with the intense blue gaze who knew her name, who'd kissed her, and had referenced said kiss as one of "true love."

"Prince...Charming?" Snow questioned hesitantly, hoping he would have no idea what the name meant but finding herself unable to keep from asking.

James' eyes lit up like bright blue flames, a smile tugging at his lips. "Yes, you remember..." he breathed, relief strong in his voice.

For an instant that hard emerald gaze softened—giving him hope that he'd finally reached her—but then her eyes fluttered shut and she shook her head roughly, dark curls whipping across her face, and the moment was lost. "No, I don't," she replied, voice carefully emotionless as she fixed him with an icy stare. "Because there's nothing _to_ remember. I _don't _know you and I _certainly_ don't love you."

"Yes, you do. You just don't remember. You love me and I love you," the prince persisted, stubbornly clinging to the glimmer of Snow he'd seen in her eyes, if only for a fleeting second, rather than focus on her cutting retort.

"Words, words, words..." Snow muttered derisively, rolling her eyes as she retrieved his scabbard and belt from the ground, sheathing the sword and strapping it around her own waist. She'd had enough of this ridiculous conversation and arguing with a lunatic, albeit an extremely attractive lunatic, was getting her no closer to her goal.

"Sorry about the whole tying you up thing, Y_our Highness_," she continued, tone implying she was anything but sorry, "but I have a prior engagement to get to and no time to deal with whatever your problem is." The princess mockingly curtseyed then gathered the bow and arrow Rumplestiltskin had given her in one hand, tossing her rucksack over her shoulder with the other before starting toward her horse. She told herself with every step that her abrupt departure had nothing whatsoever to do with how those cerulean blue eyes of his set her heart pounding, and that it was the cold sending a shiver down her spine, _not _the sound of his voice.

"Snow!" he called after her the moment her back turned, but she ignored him. "_Snow_, listen to me!"

She spun to face him, eyebrows raised impatiently.

"You can't do this. It's not who you want to be. You _can't_ kill her," he implored, voice distractingly earnest.

"Really? Watch me."

James wasn't sure which was more disturbing, the dead look in her eyes or her flat, monotone voice. This wasn't _his _Snow. The woman standing before him was a mere shadow of his beloved—a cold, hard shell completely devoid of anything resembling human emotion. Rumplestiltskin's warning abruptly sounded in his mind, that if Snow killed the Queen it would corrupt her forever into someone evil beyond imagining, and although he'd had absolute faith at the time that the woman he loved was incapable of ever becoming so dark and twisted, staring into her empty eyes he now realized she was indeed on a path that would destroy her soul.

Unless he could somehow prevent it.

The prince watched as Snow turned on her heel and strode off into the snowy woods without looking back, every muscle straining against the ropes keeping him bound and helpless to stop her.

"Don't do it! Snow! SNOW!" James howled into the night, dread seeping into his very bones.

XXX

James' arms felt like they were about to rip right out of their sockets if he kept pulling against the ropes, overtaxed muscles screaming with the continuous abuse, but he refused to stop trying. Distantly he wondered if dislocating one of his shoulders might actually help get him free but that idea was quickly relegated to plan B.

He tried to plant his foot on the gnarled roots before him to get some sort of traction but his boot immediately slipped off the snow-slick wood. A frustrated grunt escaped his lips as the prince let his head fall back against the tree, wincing as the bump from Grumpy's "encouraging" slap connected with the trunk, eliciting a starburst of pain from his bruised temple chased by a wave of nausea. Terrific, that possible concussion was quickly becoming a certainty. He allowed himself a moment to rest, pins and needles stabbing into his fingertips as the blood rushed back to his hands, the ropes no longer cutting off his circulation.

Panting, James glared off into the forest when a loud buzzing noise caught his attention. He glanced up and immediately recoiled from the large cricket flying toward his face. The bug hovered right in front of him, the incessant buzz of its wings grating on nerves already dangerously close to the surface.

"Go on. Get out of here," he muttered, turning his head away lest it land on his face.

"You must be James," a tiny voice abruptly came from the insect's mouth.

The prince slowly lifted his gaze, eyes wide with disbelief, to the cricket, realizing that it wore a coat, pinned to the minuscule green body by a single gold button, with an even more ridiculously small umbrella slung across its back.

"You can talk?"

"Yeah," the cricket replied perfunctorily, almost huffily, "and you can listen. Name's Jiminy." It landed on his forearm and continued, the words flowing out so quickly that he could barely follow. "The dwarfs sent me after you to see how things were going with Snow. They figured you could use a hand after they saw that book in her bedchamber. Looks like they were right."

"Can you get me out of here?" James pleaded, eyeing the insect desperately. "I have to stop her."

"I can try to chew through the ropes but that might take a while," Jiminy replied doubtfully.

"I've got a dagger in my right boot if you can lift it out," the prince offered, immensely thankful he'd thought to keep the blade that saved his life from the siren.

The cricket flitted down to his leg and managed to work the dagger free, tipping precariously to and fro as he flew with it back up to James' arm. The sandy-haired man resisted the urge to squirm as the sharp blade was turned toward the ropes binding his wrist, praying that the bug wouldn't accidentally cut through skin instead of rope. Jiminy held the dagger like a saw and slowly began working at the rope, straining every muscle in his tiny body with the effort of keeping the blade steady.

"So what's your plan?" the cricket grunted.

"I don't know. I tried everything to make her remember who I am, but nothing worked." James watched as the dagger slowly frayed the rope, slicing it through a few fibers at a time.

"Give that a try," Jiminy said a moment later, flitting away and landing on the prince's knee.

James curled his hand into a fist and forced his sore muscles into action, rewarded with a satisfying snap as the weakened rope broke. He immediately rubbed at his wrists, the flesh raw but unbroken thanks to his leather gloves. The cricket held out the dagger to him and he gratefully accepted it, fingers still too numb to untie the ropes. His bindings fell to the ground like snakes a moment later and he returned the dagger to his boot.

"It sounds like you're approaching this the wrong way. How can Snow remember who _you _are when she's lost sight of who _she _is?" Jiminy suggested, tapping a "finger" to his forehead as he hovered before the prince's face again.

James let the words sink in, gaze turning contemplative, and slowly rose to his feet. He'd likely deny it till the day he died—and maybe even after—but the talking cricket gave him an idea. The sandy-haired prince bit out a hasty thank you and took off into the woods, ignoring his protesting muscles and praying that Snow hadn't decided to relieve him of his horse as well.

XXX

The _nerve_ of that man! Thinking he could just stroll up and kiss her, proclaim her his "true love," then start ordering her around…such a typical, entitled _prince_! Like she would just be so overcome by a double-dose of those enticing blue eyes and a handful of sweet—though very likely insincere—words that she'd throw herself at his feet and worship him in all his princely glory, grateful to have such a big, strong man to make decisions for her.

Snow suppressed an angry growl as she slid from the saddle and looped her horse's reins around a large broken tree branch. Still fuming, she slung the bow across her shoulders and retrieved the golden arrow from her rucksack then set off toward the hill Rumplestiltskin had indicated on the map.

Fatigue tugged at her eyelids—she hadn't slept since leaving the dwarfs' cottage and even before she'd left her dreams had been haunted by a phantom figure that always found her no matter what she did—but her indignation at that lunatic prince had helped keep her awake through the long ride to the Queen's highway. Prince Charming was just exceedingly lucky that Snow didn't make a habit of beating the stuffing out of people with obvious mental problems, no matter how insufferable they may be.

Regina's black carriage, flanked on all sides by half a dozen knights, had just entered the narrow pass when she arrived. The princess shoved all thoughts of James from her mind as she shadowed the caravan from the wooded embankment running parallel to the highway. Snow paused behind a tree, green eyes riveted to the woman in the burgundy velvet riding coat at the center of the procession, a self-satisfied smirk twisting her murderous stepmother's lips as her subjects bowed their heads, as instructed, in respect.

_More like cowered in terror_, Snow amended snidely, _but not for much longer_.

The princess was oblivious of the matching smirk tugging at her own lips as she turned and ran to make it to the hilltop in time.

Snow took up a position exactly where Rumplestiltskin had told her, inhaling deeply to steady her hands as she drew back the bow and led the Evil Queen with her arm, waiting for the perfect moment to fire. She was panting with the anticipation by the time Regina's horse reappeared through a gap in the trees, her thirst for revenge so close to being quenched that she could almost taste it, but still she held off, making absolutely sure the shot would hit her target dead center before letting the arrow fly.

XXX

James all but flung himself out of the saddle when he found Snow's huge black horse tied to a downed branch, blue eyes frantically searching the surrounding woods for her but to no avail. Gulping down heavy breaths, the prince noticed a trail of footprints half-covered by the freshly fallen snow leading away up the hillside. He abandoned his stallion, not even bothering to secure the reins, and sprinted up the hill, heart beating a feverish staccato against his ribs.

Muscles burning, he reached the apex just in time to see Snow draw down on the Evil Queen with her bow and arrow then fire. Steely green eyes peered out of a face expressionless as a porcelain doll's—her mouth a cruel, vivid red slash across her pure white skin—as the golden arrow sliced through the air, primed to pierce the Queen's heart. The prince could only watch the arrow's progress in horror, Snow's name dying on his lips, knowing that he was too late to prevent the woman he loved from being lost to him forever.

But just as the arrow was about to find its mark, Regina's head snapped toward the hill, soulless brown eyes locking on the barbed weapon and stopping it midair. She raised one gloved hand and with a flick of her wrist the arrow reversed directions, now pointing at Snow.

"Hello, Snow, dear," the Queen called, voice perfectly and alarmingly pleasant, mauve lips curling back into a white-fanged smile, "Goodbye, Snow, dear."

With that the arrow shot back the way it had come, headed straight for Snow White.

Something flitted across the princess' face as she watched the golden arrow fly towards her—surprise? Disappointment? James couldn't be sure which—but whatever it was disappeared just as quickly, her face melding back into that vacant mask as her eyes fell shut and her arms dropped to her sides, waiting for the arrow to hit her.

But it never did.

Instead a heavy body slammed into hers, knocking her to the ground. Disoriented, Snow blinked up into a pair of eyes the color of a churning October sky, temper immediately flaring when she realized just who those eyes belonged to.

"_You!_" she shouted, shoving James off her and scrambling to her feet.

The prince fell backward, a pained grunt escaping his lips as his shoulder banged against the frozen earth, the golden arrow sticking straight out beneath the juncture of his collarbone and shoulder.

All the air was sucked from Snow's lungs at the sight of it, realization dawning that he'd not only pushed her out of the way of the arrow, but that he'd taken the hit for her. He'd _saved_ her life.

She quickly rearranged her features, better to appear angry and annoyed than scared or actually concerned for him. "What the hell do you think you're doing?! _Why_ would you do this?"

"Well," James began, groaning as he gingerly pulled himself toward a tree and used it to lever upright, cradling his injured shoulder with the opposite hand and leaning heavily against the trunk as he turned to face her, "it seemed...like the honorable thing to do." He watched her face as he said it, hoping the words would remind her of the first time he'd saved her from imminent danger, or even of the time she'd saved him instead.

If he had to rehash every conversation they'd ever had—although those were admittedly quite few—and pay the price of Rumplestiltskin's potion out of his own flesh and blood to show Snow who she really was...so be it.

His words garnered only an angry scoff, the princess turning away and looking around the woods as if hoping to find some way to rid herself of him once and for all conveniently carved into a tree. When no advice magically appeared, she glared at him, ire dulling slightly as her eyes flicked to the blood oozing from his wounded shoulder.

"I love you, Snow," James declared, meeting her hostile green gaze head-on.

"But I _don't _love you," she shot back exasperatedly.

The sandy-haired prince squeezed his eyes shut against the pain, not from his shoulder—although that _really _did hurt—but of having the woman he loved look him in the eye and emphatically tell him that she didn't love him yet again. He was pretty sure it'd have been more merciful had she shot him with another arrow or just twisted the one already embedded in his shoulder instead.

"I don't even know you," Snow continued, irritation and concern openly warring across her features.

"Well, I don't care," he managed around a wince, face scrunching up with the sharp pangs coursing up and down his arm as he repositioned himself against the tree. "The only thing I care about is that you don't forget who you really are. I would rather _die _ than let you fill your heart with darkness." His intense blue gaze bore unwaveringly into her, underscoring the conviction in his voice. Panting, James doubled over against the tree, clenching his jaw shut to keep from screaming as he finally surrendered to the pain.

Snow stared at him, eyes wide with his confession, a tendril of sympathy curling through her at the obvious pain he was enduring for her. Hesitantly, she lifted a hand and placed it on his uninjured shoulder, trying to comfort this strange, insane man who genuinely thought he loved her and was willing to die for that belief. Swallowing hard, the princess stepped forward, what she intended to do next she had no idea, but the moment she started toward him James looked up, sad blue eyes piercing her through as though seeing past flesh and bone and into her soul.

Shouts and the sound of horses tromping through the woods toward them shattered the moment; Snow tossed a panicked glance over her shoulder at the noise and when she turned back, determination blazed in those emerald green depths.

"It's the Queen's knights. We have to hurry," she informed him in a rush, yanking off one of her gloves then firmly planting the still covered hand in the middle of his chest, wrapping the other carefully around the arrow in his shoulder. "I can't break the arrow off so I'm just going to have to pull it out," she explained, gaze fixed on his. "Whatever you do, try not to move because this is_ really _gonna hurt."

James gave a sharp nod, locking his teeth together and bracing himself for the pain to come.

The raven-haired princess took a deep breath and tightened her grip on the arrow, simultaneously pressing down a little harder on his chest to keep him in place against the tree, then pulled with all her might, the gold weapon dislodging from his flesh with a sickening sucking sound. James' body jerked involuntarily beneath her hand, a shout tearing through his lips as the barbed arrowhead ripped the hole in shoulder even larger on the way out.

Definitely, _definitely _hurt worse going out than in, he thought, breathing heavily with the aftershocks.

Snow flung the arrow away and was instantly at his side, reaching up and winding his good arm around her shoulders, her own arms encircling his waist to help support his weight. "Come on, let's move!" she commanded, all but dragging him along with her as she started back the way they had come.

The couple made quick progress down the hill, despite how every step sent a fresh wave of agony through James' arm. They finally stumbled to a halt at the base where Snow's black horse was still tied, James' grey and white stallion nowhere in sight. Snow propped the prince against a tree then hurriedly unwound the reins from the branch and hauled herself up into the saddle, leading the horse over to where he waited and extending her arm to him; the shouted commands of the knights drawing ever closer.

"Go...leave me here," James panted, more exhausted than he'd ever been in his entire life as he slumped against the tree. It didn't matter if he got captured now, Snow was safe and could escape far better without him slowing her down. Maybe he'd even be able to hold the knights off long enough to give her a decent head start.

"Look, Prince Charming, you can either get on the horse now or be dragged behind it, your choice. But either way, I'm not moving from this spot without you." Green eyes flashed, daring him to test her.

He knew that look well enough not to even contemplate arguing. Growling through his teeth, James pushed off from the tree then grabbed Snow's forearm with one hand and the saddle in the other, painfully pulling himself up just as the Queen's knights reached the bottom of the hill behind them.

Snow kicked her horse into a breakneck gallop the moment he settled against her back, James clinging tightly to her waist so as not to get thrown off, the black knights hot on their heels as they raced deeper into the woods. The princess maneuvered around trees and boulders expertly, using the rugged terrain to her advantage and quickly putting distance between them and their pursuers. They'd just cleared a steep ridge, the opposite side thick with dense evergreens and snow-dusted bushes, when Snow abruptly slowed the horse and leapt from the saddle.

"What're you doing?" James demanded, confusion furrowing his brow as she yanked her rucksack from the saddle and impatiently motioned for him to climb down as well. He slung himself over the side of the horse without questioning her further, trusting that she had a very good reason to stop while they were still being chased.

The moment he was clear of the horse Snow gave the animal a hard slap on the rear, sending it crashing through the forest away from them. She grabbed his hand and pulled him along with her behind the trunk of a massive tree, both of them flattening back against it as the knights galloped over the hill, none of them so much as glancing their way as they raced after the horse up the ridge.

"That should buy us a little time before they catch the horse and realize no one's in the saddle," Snow whispered, a grin curving her lips as she watched the knights disappear into the distance.

James stared down at her, awestruck yet again by how calm and collected she remained even as they ran for their lives. He might go so far as to say she was actually enjoying the game of cat-and-mouse, although he wasn't so sure she was the mouse in that scenario.

"Can you walk?" Snow interrupted his thoughts as she turned back to him, gaze assessing. When he nodded, she continued, "Good, because we need to run." The princess wrapped her arms around his middle again, his uninjured arm automatically curling around her shoulders as they fled back down the hill through the woods.

Although his shoulder felt like a hot poker had been jammed into it and almost every other muscle ached like Snow had made good on her earlier threat and dragged him behind the horse, all James could think about was how incredible it felt having Snow's arms around him again. Granted, the pain and situation tempered the moment quite a bit but he'd take what he could get at this point.

_And all he'd had to do was almost get himself killed… Good to know at least some things hadn't changed_, the sandy-haired prince mused, the ghost of a smirk lifting his lips.

XXX

"They _escaped_?" Regina hissed, menacingly advancing on her commanding black knight, a thrill running through her when he flinched and edged back. She momentarily wished that his helmet left his face exposed so she could see the fear gleam in his eyes; the Queen had long ago become accustomed to inspiring fear and, in truth, now craved it. "How, _exactly_, did they manage that?"

"They must've gotten off the horse after we lost sight of them in the forest and then sent the horse on without them," the knight explained, voice wavering.

"And you couldn't tell the difference between a horse carrying two people and a horse with an empty saddle?" she demanded, gloved fingers clenching as she continued toward him, brown eyes fixed on him like a serpent poised to spring on an unsuspecting mouse.

"We did find this, Your Majesty," he offered, holding out the golden arrow to her, the tip coated with blood.

The Queen snatched it from his trembling hands, bringing the weapon to eye level and grinning at the congealed scarlet staining the barbs. So she'd wounded Snow's precious Prince Charming at the very least. Pity her mirror was packed away with her other things for the journey to the summer palace and she couldn't revel firsthand in the princess' distress.

"The scope of your incompetence astounds me," Regina seethed, words dripping venom as she shoved the arrow at the knight then abruptly turned to the carriage and motioned for her guards to open the door. "Get out," she commanded the black-cloaked occupant.

When he ignored her the knights forcibly hauled him out, the manacles on his wrists jangling with the movement.

"What do you want?" a thick brogue questioned bitterly from beneath the hood.

"I have a job for you, _my pet_," the Queen answered, blood red lips curled into a smirk.

"Go to hell," was the man's simple response, earning a swift shot in the ribs from one of the knights holding him.

Regina watched him double over gasping for air then reached out and brushed back his hood once he was jerked upright, revealing the handsome and livid face of the Huntsman. "How many times must we go over this, my pet," she chided, holding out her hands as a small golden chest appeared between them, loving the fear that flickered deep in his blue gaze at the very sight of it. "You do _what _I say, _when_ I say it, or..." the Queen leaned in so that her lips brushed the shell of his ear, "I will crush your heart into dust."

She stepped back, taking in his locked jaw and defiant glare with tremendous satisfaction, suppressing the carnal rush his rugged features sent through her. _Later_, she promised herself.

"Come, walk with me," Regina instructed, waving the knights away. "I have a proposition that I think you'll want to hear."

The Huntsman trailed reluctantly after her on the snowy highway, eyes never leaving the chest in her hands.

"Have you ever seen what happens to a wolf caught in a snare?" she began, glancing back at him over her shoulder, judging how the muscles in his jaw tightened as a confirmation. "It usually plays out one of two ways. The wolf struggles and struggles until it finally realizes that it's hopelessly trapped, then it gives up and starves to death. But some wolves will do whatever it takes to survive," Regina spun to face him, brown eyes flashing. "They know that no matter how hard they fight they'll never get free. At least not unscathed. So they chew off their own foot instead."

"Which kind are you, my pet?" the Queen questioned, striding forward and trailing her fingers through his brown curls, letting her hand fall by her side when he jerked his head away. "Are you going to lie down and wait for death, or make a sacrifice in exchange for freedom?"

"What would you have me do?" the Huntsman asked carefully.

"My knights are good for fighting, not tracking. I want you to track down the people who attacked me today."

"You mean Snow White. I heard the knights say that she tried to kill you," he shot back, a deep chuckle rumbling through his chest at the idea of the princess giving the Queen exactly what she deserved, namely a painful but not-so-swift death.

"She missed," Regina replied through clenched teeth, dark eyes narrowed.

"So did you apparently."

"Oh, I wouldn't say that." She grinned at him and motioned for the knight with the arrow to hand it to the Huntsman. "I was aiming for Snow, but her Prince Charming threw himself in front of the arrow instead. Injuring him is almost as good as injuring her."

The Huntsman eyed the bloodstained arrowhead, jaw clenched, before dropping it in the snow. "I let the princess escape the first time you sent me after her. What makes you think this time will be any different?" he deadpanned, fighting to keep his expression blank.

"Because now you've gotten a taste of what befalls those who betray me. Do you really want to spend the rest of your life caged for a princess you barely know? One who has done nothing to try to repay your kindness? Or do you want to return to the woods, to your family?

"I don't give second chances, Huntsman. But if you bring me Snow White and her companion...I'll give you your freedom." Her gloved fingers caressed the gold box for emphasis and he fought off a shudder, reminded of how those same hands had ripped his still beating heart from his chest and squeezed it until he collapsed.

"And if I refuse?"

Regina flashed him a disturbing little smile and let her hand splay over his leather doublet, right where his heart used to be. "Then I'll put you out of your misery right here and now. But make no mistake, with or without your help, I _will _find Snow White. It's only a question of when, not if. You might as well save yourself because you can't save her." She waved at his manacles and they suddenly unlocked and dropped to the ground; at her nod a knight materialized beside them, holding out the Huntsman's knife to him.

Blue eyes stared hard at the proffered blade for a long moment before he reached out and took it, gaze flicking to the Queen and the chest in her hands.

"You could try to stab me and take your heart back, but without me how will you get it back in your chest?" she informed him, that infuriatingly imperious smirk on her lips.

The Huntsman reluctantly attached the knife to his belt and shrugged the black hooded cloak from his shoulders before starting toward the forest.

"Oh, my pet," Regina called after him, "Bring them both back alive. I'm positively _aching_ to meet my stepdaughter's handsome prince."

"You don't honestly trust him, do you, Your Majesty?" the commanding knight asked, stopping at her side as they watched the Huntsman disappear between the trees.

"Of course not. But I like to know exactly where people's true loyalties lie, and the best way to determine that is to test them. For instance, I don't trust you because you're incompetent," the Queen rounded on him, the grin that'd been the last thing many others had seen before leaving this life overtaking her lips, "so instead of sending you after him as you are so that you can ruin yet _another _simple task, I think I'll see if you can be of more use as an eye in the sky." A flick of her wrist enveloped the knight in thick black smoke, a sleek raven emerging from the cloud with an alarmed squawk.

"Follow the Huntsman, my pretty birdy, and report back to the knights once he's found Snow White and Prince Charming or stay like that forever."

XXX

"Come on, it's not much farther," Snow panted, trying to sound encouraging as she and James struggled across the snow-choked hills. Twice she'd lost her footing and almost sent the pair of them crashing to the ground but both times she'd somehow managed to stay upright. Her left ankle throbbed vengefully with every step—the last time she stumbled she'd caught that ankle on a rock buried under the snow—yet she still soldiered on, knowing the only way they'd survive this situation was if they made it to her hideout.

James merely grunted in response, his face slick with sweat despite the bitter cold.

The princess eyed him warily; it was a minor miracle he was still standing let alone had walked this far exhausted as he clearly was. A pang of guilt hit her squarely in the chest, but she shoved it aside. She could feel guilty later, right now she needed to focus on getting them to safety before he passed out otherwise she'd be dragging him the rest of the way and that was _not_ a prospect she relished. Snow quickened their pace at the thought, lungs burning with the added exertion.

They'd reached the bottom of another hill, feet sinking in the soft snowdrifts and slowing their progress. The unmistakable sound of footsteps on snow abruptly sounded behind them and their heads simultaneously turned to find a black-clad figure racing toward them.

James shifted protectively in front of Snow then launched himself at the man, tackling him to the ground. He yanked the dagger from his boot just as the man freed a long hunting knife from his own belt. They wrestled in the snow, both trying to disarm the other.

"Snow, run!" the prince bit out, wincing as his shoulder burned with the strain of fighting the man. He didn't look to see if she complied, instead he slammed his knee into the man's ribs and brought the dagger to his throat.

"James, no!" she shouted, rushing forward and wrapping her hands around his arm, stopping him from stabbing the dark-haired man he'd pinned to the ground. "I know him."

He shot her a questioning glance, but her wide green eyes were fixed on the other man. The prince slowly released his hold on the stranger and rose to his feet, dagger still gripped tightly in his hand. The other man cautiously shoved himself upright, gaze locked on James as he kept his own knife at the ready.

"Huntsman?" Snow gasped, disbelief evident in her tone. The man's dark blue eyes focused on her as she strode to him. "What are you doing here?"

"The Queen sent me to find you," he panted, still having a hard time breathing from that knee to his already sore ribs.

James took an automatic step forward, ready to go round two, but Snow held out a hand, motioning for him to remain where he was. "You're still with Regina?" she asked, hurt gleaming in her eyes.

"Yes. But I'm here to warn you, Princess," the dark-haired man explained, sheathing his hunting knife. "Her knights won't be far behind me. I'll lead them astray but you must go. Get as far away from here as you can. The Queen knows you're here and she's given orders for you both to be captured."

A relieved breath whooshed from her lungs, face breaking into a smile, as Snow moved even closer to the Huntsman, reaching out and clasping his hand in hers. "Come with us," she entreated, staring up into his face. "You're the best tracker she has, without you they'll never find us."

"I cannot," he replied, digging his heels into the snow as she turned and tried to pull him along with her.

"Of course you can. You don't want to stay with her, do you?"

"No, but—"

"Then come with us—"

"Snow!" the Huntsman interrupted sharply, eyes boring into hers as he lifted her hand, removed the glove she wore and guided her hand through the open collar of his doublet, pressing her bare palm to his chest.

She regarded him with confusion for a moment but then her entire expression changed, eyes flying wide open in horror. "No..." she whispered, watery gaze dropping to the hand over his silent heart.

"You see, I _cannot_ leave the Queen. Not now, not ever," he told her, voice calm and reassuring despite the situation.

"I'm sorry! I'm so sorry, it should've been me," Snow cried, face crumpling as tears spilled unchecked down her cheeks.

"Don't say that, Princess. I knew the danger the moment I spared you that day. I gave up my heart so that the Queen wouldn't get yours; that's a sacrifice I was willing to make. And I'd do it again."

Sobs shook her frame and the Huntsman reached out and ran his gloved hands along her arms soothingly.

James watched this entire exchange, growing increasingly irritated the longer it went on, especially after the Huntsman placed her hand on his bare chest. Snow had told him as they journeyed to the Troll Bridge to retrieve his mother's stolen ring how the Huntsman had let her go rather than cut out her heart as he'd been ordered to, and while James was immensely grateful for that act, that didn't mean he liked how freely the dark-haired man touched Snow. The prince found himself completely and unaccountably jealous, wishing he'd kneed the Huntsman a bit lower than the ribs as the other man comforted her.

_He _should've been the one doing that.

His fingers clenched convulsively around the dagger in his hand and he had to fight back the urge to storm over there and tear the man with the tousled curls and wolfish gaze away from the woman he loved.

A horse's shrill cry echoed around them and all heads whipped toward the sound, seeing the black mass of bodies cresting the opposite ridge.

"Go!" the Huntsman shouted, urging Snow away but she vehemently shook her head and clung to his doublet, fingers curling tightly into the leather. "Take her! Get her out of here!" he yelled, gaze shifting pointedly to James.

He didn't need to be told twice. The prince shoved his dagger back in his boot and strode forward, arms banding around Snow's waist as she struggled against him, fighting to stay with the Huntsman.

"No! Let me go! I have to help him," she screamed, face so contorted by anger and sorrow that she was barely recognizable as he forcibly hauled her away, agony lancing through his shoulder at her every movement.

James bit down hard on his lower lip to contain the curses lurking on his tongue as he carried her to the cover of the tree line, only loosening his hold on her once they were safely out of sight. Snow immediately turned on him, pounding furiously on his chest.

"You bastard!" she shrieked through her tears. "How could you make me abandon him like that?! I'm only _alive_ right now because of him!"

"You can't help him. If you get caught then his sacrifice will have been for nothing," the prince argued, the words acid in his mouth but he'd say anything at this point if it got Snow out of here.

"You don't know that. You don't know _anything_ about me," she spat, clawing at his restraining hands.

He winced at her words, eyes flicking to the knights pouring down the hillside. Gritting his teeth, James tightened his grip on her shoulders, yanking her toward him and forcing her to meet his gaze.

"I _know_ that we can't fight off all those knights if they catch us. I _know_ that the Queen will kill you the minute she sees you. And you can be as pissed at me as you want, but do it later. Right now we need to get the hell out of here. Now show me the way to your hideout or so help me I will throw you over my shoulder and carry you as far away from here as I can get." The prince hoped she wouldn't call his bluff; he was running on pure adrenaline at the moment and would probably get all of twenty feet carrying her before his body finally gave out.

She glared at him mutinously, jaw set.

"You can't save the Huntsman today, but you'll have another chance if we live to see tomorrow," he tried again, voice softer, knowing—and hating—that the other man seemed to be the only thing getting through to her at the moment.

Snow closed her eyes and sucked in a deep breath, giving a jerky nod. "My hideout is on the opposite side of this ridge. I'll show you." Her voice cracked and he could hear the thinly-veiled anger in it, but at least she was thinking clearly again.

The princess stalked off the moment he released her shoulders, not allowing herself to limp despite the jarring pain in her ankle and without so much as a backwards glance to see if he followed. James let out a heavy sigh and trailed after her, a low hiss escaping his lips as he cradled his injured arm to his chest.

XXX

"Which way did they go, Huntsman?" a black-clad knight demanded when he reached where the dark-haired Irishman stood at the base of the hill.

"This way. Follow me," he answered, pointing at the obvious footprints leading toward the woods.

The knights dismounted at his suggestion when they reached the trees, under the guise of it being quieter if they continued on foot—although the Huntsman's true motive was to give Snow and her prince more time to escape.

"Well, where to next?" the ranking knight questioned impatiently.

The Huntsman led them into the woods, following the footprints only when he had to but steadily urging the men off course, oblivious to the dark shape flying high above them, unerringly keeping to the couple's trail into the forest.

XXX

"In here." Snow jerked her chin toward the rotted hollow in a large tree trunk.

James stared incredulously at the narrow hole, it barely looked big enough for the two of them to stand together inside it at the same time. "_That's _your hideout?" he asked, unable to keep the distaste from his voice.

She rolled her eyes and stepped inside, the darkness immediately swallowing her form. "Fine, _Your Highness_, stay out there if you like," her disembodied voice floated out to him.

Frowning, he reluctantly entered as well, ducking his head so as not to bump it in the pitch black only to promptly trip over something and almost fall flat on his face.

The sound of flint striking reached his ears then a spark caught, lighting a candle. With the illumination James realized what he'd stumbled on was the lip of a stone step. Inside the tree had been hollowed out all the way down into a small stone cavern. Snow bustled around him, lighting enough candles that he could just make out a single wooden cot covered with a dark fur blanket stationed in one corner, a shallow fire pit in the center of the room and little else. Dust and cobwebs coated everything in sight, letting him know that the cavern hadn't seen use for quite some time.

"It's not the palace but it'll do in a pinch," Snow muttered, stepping past him and releasing a curtain that concealed the hole in the tree. Seeing the question on his face, she continued, "It's enchanted. All they'll see is a tree trunk."

"Did you do this yourself?" James wondered aloud, pulling off his gloves and running a hand along the cold, carved stone walls.

"No, the place belonged to a hermit. I bartered it from him." She shrugged out of her black cloak, tossing it on the end of the cot along with her own gloves.

"And the enchanted curtain?"

"That I..._borrowed_."

He grinned at her tone, remembering their own inauspicious first meeting. "You mean stole."

"No. _Borrowed_," she corrected archly, the corners of her lips twitching. "I just haven't had a chance to give it back yet."

"Or the inclination either, right?" Maybe it was the relief of them finally reaching safety or just the lingering effects of blood loss and exhaustion finally catching up to him, but James was enjoying their banter far too much to note just how vastly different her current reaction was as he alluded—albeit vaguely—to knowing her before.

She shot him a mild glare then moved over to a niche carved in the wall, retrieving a small wooden box. "Sit, let's get a look at that shoulder." Snow gestured to the bed as she flipped open the carved lid.

The prince did as he was told, aching body gratefully sinking into the plush fur slung across the thin, hay-stuffed mattress. She removed his sword from her waist and propped the scabbard against the foot of the cot then knelt on the dirt floor before him, placing the box and a candle beside her. Her bare fingers moved to the ties of his doublet and he caught them completely on reflex. Her eyes lifted to his wary blue gaze, a glimmer of humor shining in those deep emerald irises.

"What, you want to take that off yourself? With that shoulder you can barely move?"

He just stared at her, mind scrambling for an excuse why he didn't want to let her undress him—James wasn't sure he could handle her touching his bare chest right now, no matter what the simmering possessiveness in him might want after their encounter with the Huntsman.

"I can't do anything for that wound while you're still wearing that so..." She began pulling her hand away when his fingers tightened around hers, causing a confused frown to flicker across her face but it was immediately chased away by a wry grin. "As irresistible as I'm sure the mere sight of your bare chest is, Charming, I think I can find a way to control myself enough not to throw you down and have my naughty way with you for five minutes."

_That_ little comment knocked his thoughts farther into the gutter than anything the siren had blatantly suggested, and before James could gather his wits enough to protest Snow had pried his fingers from her own and started unlacing the ties running down the middle of his torso.

Lips pressed into a thin line and pointedly ignoring the less-than-noble side of his brain, he willed himself to relax, eyes focusing on a cobweb in the corner of the cavern instead of the far more appealing sight of Snow removing his doublet. Once she finished with the laces, she worked his good arm free and then, with infinite gentleness and aching slowness, peeled the leather sleeve away from his injured shoulder. A rust-colored stain, dried in parts but still tacky with fresh blood in others, had spread all the way down his arm, plastering his white long-sleeved shirt to the skin.

James suddenly remembered the letter he'd shoved inside his shirt as Snow's fingers untucked it from his waistband, his heart pounded so loud he was sure she'd hear it and an icy sweat broke out across his back. He barely had her trusting him as it was, he didn't want to think about how she'd react to the letter if she saw it right now. The eternally hopeful part of him said that it might finally convince her he was telling the truth, but given how she'd reacted to everything else that pointed to him knowing her...he thought it more likely that he'd end up unconscious and tied to something again.

When she prompted him to lift his arms so she could remove his shirt, the sandy-haired prince snuck his hand beneath the fabric, grabbing the letter and shoving it out of sight under his thigh. He groaned a little louder than was necessary as he moved his injured shoulder, keeping her focused there so she wouldn't notice him secreting the letter. Snow paused with the shirt halfway up his chest and he could see worry flit across her expression, that concerned green gaze meeting his.

"You okay?"

James hated to lie to her, although this wasn't technically lying—more misleading—but he forced that thought away. Instead, he flashed her a tight smile. "Yeah, just a little tender."

Snow was even gentler than before as she worked the sleeve off his injured arm, although the congealed blood had adhered the fabric to his skin like glue, eliciting a low hiss of pain when the shirt took the scab with it as it finally pulled free.

"Sorry," she whispered before glancing at his shoulder and a horrified gasp burst from her lips.

He followed her wide eyes, taking in the large scarlet bloodstain that branched out across his entire arm. Most of the blood was dried and beginning to flake off, it itched like hell now that he no longer wore his shirt and doublet, but a steady trickle of fresh blood was dribbling from the wound where the scab had been dislodged. It didn't really hurt so much anymore, the pain had steadily dulled until his arm was practically numb, but it still looked pretty bad, James supposed. He was having a difficult time concentrating on anything other than her hands lightly dancing over his skin—even injured he could honestly say her touch put the siren's illusion to shame.

Snow turned and grabbed her rucksack from the floor, rummaging through it and retrieving her water skin then ripping a long strip of fabric from the green cloak she'd stuffed inside the bag. James used her distraction to slip the letter into his boot.

_Dear gods, his shoulder was a mess! There was so much blood,_ the raven-haired princess thought, guilt churning her stomach until she thought she'd be sick as she wet the fabric and used it to clean his arm.

Her struggling in his arms and hitting him when he'd tried to make her see sense and escape flashed through her mind, compounding her remorse. The man had literally thrown himself between her and an arrow, and she thanked him by making his wound worse. Granted, she'd been so shocked and upset from learning that the Huntsman had sacrificed his heart for hers but that was no excuse. Fury bubbled in her veins and she scrubbed a little harder at the dried blood caked to his arm; she was _so_ tired of seeing others get caught in the crossfire between her and the Queen.

But at least with James Snow had the opportunity to make amends. And that's exactly what she intended to do. She'd keep him safe until she got him to Doc and then she'd deal with the Huntsman and her stepmother. Snow wasn't about to leave him to suffer in her stead with Regina, nor was she about to let the Queen hurt anyone else.

She rinsed the ruddy rag out over the fire pit then began cleaning the actual wound. He stiffened when the fabric touched his raw flesh, face twisting into a pained grimace, and the rogue princess shoved her anger down as deep as she could manage, trying to soften her touch. Finally she'd wiped away enough of the excess blood to gauge the real damage.

The wound was fairly deep but didn't go all the way through his shoulder, from what she could tell the arrow had stopped about halfway through. Snow didn't think he had any broken bones and the bleeding had mostly stemmed already, meaning the arrow had missed any major veins, so the biggest concern now was infection. The heat she felt radiating from his skin let her know exactly how valid a concern that was.

She grabbed the tiny bottle of alcohol she kept in the wooden kit for injuries and poured some directly on the wound. James clenched his jaw tightly shut and his good hand curled into a fist atop his knee, those vivid blue eyes staring away from her. Snow pulled a satchel tied with string from the box and removed a handful of the ground herbs, using the water skin to wet them and gently pressing them across the wound.

The burning in his shoulder seemed to evaporate on contact and his surprised gaze shifted to hers in question and she smiled up at him. "These'll help with the pain until I can get you to Doc. He'll be able to patch you up properly."

"Thanks."

Nodding, Snow tore another strip from her cloak, this time winding it gingerly around his shoulder to keep the herbs in place. "By the way," she began, eyes resolutely focused on her fingers as they knotted the ends, "thank you...for saving my life."

James' heart leapt into his throat when those fathomless green eyes lifted to his, her expression momentarily unguarded, voice soft and fervent with gratitude. "You're welcome," he managed thickly, swallowing hard, every instinct in his body screaming for him to tangle a hand in those wild dark curls and guide her lips to his.

"But don't do it again," Snow snapped icily as she rose to her feet. "I already owe the Huntsman more than I can ever repay, I don't need to owe you too."

The prince stared up at her, frustration mounting with this one-step-forward-five-steps-back dance they kept doing.

She avoided his gaze—those piercing sky blue eyes of his did strange things to her insides—but soon found herself looking at his chest and that wasn't much better. Now that he wasn't covered in blood her mind wandered to how strong the muscles in his arms and shoulders had felt beneath her fingertips, and by contrast how smooth his tanned skin was. Her eyes lingered on his chest, her traitorous body longing to trail a hand across that broad expanse of naked flesh—to see if the skin and muscles there were just as soft yet strong and would jerk at her touch too—all the way down to the taut planes of his abdomen.

Heat flooded her cheeks, among other places, and she took a step back, scared of what she might do if she stayed so close to him. Apparently his bare chest really _was_ that irresistible.

"Um, how's your head?" Snow abruptly changed the subject, blinking rapidly and training her gaze anywhere but at his chest.

"It's fine," James bit out tightly.

She looked at him then, seeing restrained anger in those intense blue irises. He was mad at her? Well, it wasn't like she didn't deserve it, Snow reminded herself. Every wound on his body pretty much had her name on it.

The princess retrieved the satchel of herbs, pulled out another handful, wet them, and worked them into a paste on her fingers. She took a cautious step forward, heart in her throat as he watched her, and gently brushed the herbs along his bruised forehead. Every muscle in her abdomen clenched when their eyes met again, this time not a trace of anger lurked in those cerulean depths; it was the same way he'd looked at her in the woods just before he kissed her.

"How's that feel?" Snow frowned at how husky her voice sounded.

"Better," he replied, his own voice equally low and throaty. _Gods_, just the whisper of her fingertips on his skin was overwhelming—at once pure bliss and absolute hell, because as amazing as it felt for him, she didn't feel the same. And how could she? She'd forgotten him.

The moment stretched between them, eyes locked and the air crackling with mutual anticipation.

She slowly withdrew her fingers, his skin so warm and inviting, and wiped her hands on the rag she'd used to clean his arm but the echo of his touch refused to leave her fingertips. Snow could feel his gaze following her around the room as she tidied things up: replacing the satchel and alcohol bottle in the wooden box and returning it to the niche, rinsing her hands over the fire pit, neatly folding her green cloak into quarters and shoving it back into her rucksack. The princess handed him the water skin and ordered, "Drink."

James stared at her like he wanted to say something but instead raised the container to his lips and drank deeply. Snow instantly regretted giving it to him as she watched his Adam's apple bob as he swallowed, the sudden desire to feel his throat work beneath her lips flaring through her.

_What the hell was the matter with her?!_

He passed the water skin back to her and she took a small sip, resisting the urge to drain the rest of it. James needed the water more than she did and whatever was left over they needed to conserve; the nearest fresh water source was miles away. She held it back out to him but he shook his head, eyes falling tiredly shut.

"You should get some rest," Snow told him, stupidly stating the obvious.

The prince nodded and moved to get up.

"What are you doing? I said you needed to rest." She stepped forward, crowding him into the corner, confusion wrinkling her brow.

"This is your bed," James replied simply, gesturing at the mattress he sat on. "I'll sleep on the floor."

"Lay down," the raven-haired princess commanded, eyes flashing angrily. She could see the automatic protest forming on his lips and cut him off, "You've been shot and dragged all through the woods, no way am I letting you sleep on a cold floor."

He eyed her a moment longer, clearly contemplating arguing—probably about to make some stupid chivalry-related comment—but apparently thought better of it and maneuvered himself down completely onto the cot, stretching his long legs out and letting his head rest on the dusty feather pillow. "As my lady bids me," he couldn't help but mutter at her imperious tone.

Suppressing a satisfied grin, Snow worked the fur blanket out from under his legs and draped it across him. "Move over," she abruptly instructed once he was settled—his involuntary shiver when his overheated back touched the cold mattress not escaping her notice.

James' eyes popped open. "What?" he croaked, panic and exhaustion mixing in his voice.

"I'm not about to sleep on that cold floor either."

After a stunned silence, the prince cautiously rolled onto his good shoulder, making a space on the narrow bed for her. She crawled under the blanket, pulling her discarded black cloak over them as well, and curled into his side to share their body heat since lighting the fire would produce too much smoke and draw attention to them. She sighed at finally getting her weight off her ankle; now that they were no longer trekking through the snow she'd felt it begin to swell.

His eyes bore into hers, full of unasked questions, trying to steal the answers from her very thoughts. Ankle forgotten, Snow ducked her head, gaze focusing on the hand she'd splayed on his chest—half to keep him literally at arm's length, half to appease the nagging urge to know how his chest felt. Muscular, feverishly warm and smooth beneath her palm, goose flesh springing up at her icy touch.

Her fingers wandered and the muscles under her hand jumped in response, sending a thrill rushing through her. She bit her lip and forced her hand not to move, resolutely tamping down on the desire to explore his abdomen next. The strong, rapid thump of his heart against her palm did nothing for her self-control.

After what seemed like an eternity, Snow lifted her eyes to his only to find his lids drooping.

"Hey!" she shouted, shoving him lightly, relief flowing through her when that bright blue gaze met hers.

"What's wrong?" he mumbled, voice already thick with sleep.

"You probably have a concussion, that means you can't go to sleep."

"But you said—"

"I said 'rest,' not 'sleep.' If you go to sleep with a concussion you might never wake up," Snow interrupted sharply, heart still pounding with something she could swear was panic.

James rolled his eyes and groaned something that sounded suspiciously like "you could always kiss me awake" into the pillow but didn't try to go back to sleep. "Then how exactly do you propose I stay awake, Princess?" he inquired sarcastically, eyes alight with humor.

She ignored the shudder of pleasure his teasing tone sent racing through her and burrowed closer to him, trying to pass it off as merely being cold—his good arm immediately wound around her waist and drew her into the warmth of his body, her thoughts turning fuzzy at their proximity.

_Get a grip!_ Snow ordered herself, cursing her choice of words as her imagination "helpfully" suggested just where she could get a grip on _Charming_. Crimson rolled across her cheeks and she kept her gaze focused on the hollow between his collarbones as she spoke, "Why don't you tell me about slaying the dragon?"

When no response came the princess chanced a glance at his face, finding him staring down at her curiously, the trace of a smile playing on his lips.

"What?" she giggled. "Isn't that what you knight-in-shining-armor types love doing? Regaling people with tales of your heroism? Slaying beasts, saving damsels in distress, amassing obscene amounts of treasure?" Snow couldn't resist teasing him, a fine black eyebrow raised in challenge.

A low chuckle rumbled through his chest, his head shaking slowly. "There's not much to tell really. The knights I was with had already entered the dragon's lair, they were attacked and I went to help them. As I was pulling a man to safety, the dragon attacked again. I lured it away from him into a narrow rock crevice where it couldn't reach me and chopped off its head."

When he looked at Snow he found her staring at him, face filled with quiet awe. "What?"

Lashes fluttering, she shook her head as if to clear it. "Nothing. It's just...I've never heard a prince talk like that before. They rarely even mention anyone else being there to help them. They usually just talk about how heroic _they _were."

"People were dying. It's not heroic to try to stop that, it's just the right thing to do." James shrugged his good shoulder, the charred skeletal remains of the knights who'd died that day flickering through his mind.

"Well...you definitely are the most unusual prince I've ever met, Charming," Snow commented wryly, clearing her throat.

"Is that a good or bad thing?" he asked, a sandy brow quirked.

"I haven't decided yet," she shot back, grinning.

The conversation lulled a moment and James could feel sleep tugging at his eyelids again; it was dangerously easy to drift off with Snow pressed so close to him. And although the cot was anything but comfortable compared to the down mattress he'd slept on in the palace, having her curled at his side felt _right_. Like a missing puzzle piece finally slipped into place creating a complete picture. Snow was always meant to be here next to him, or maybe he was always meant to be next to her, but now that he'd found her James had no intention of _ever_ letting her go again.

"Hey, _no_ sleeping," she interrupted his thoughts, green eyes stern.

James forced his eyes wide open, but he was too warm and comfortable to evade the siren's call of sleep for much longer.

"Talk to me some more," Snow urged, warm breath fanning out across his throat.

He refused to linger on how incredible that felt, instead replying, "About what?"

The princess shrugged in his arms, shifting her legs a little closer to his, her thighs brushing his and causing him to go rigid.

_By the goddess, was she trying to torture him to death?!_

"Anything you want, just so long as I know you're awake," she answered calmly, completely oblivious to the effect she had on him.

"Okay..." James racked his thoughts for a safe subject when a nagging question from earlier popped into his head. "Why didn't you try to dodge the arrow?"

Snow stiffened, a cautious green stare meeting his as she tipped her head back. "What?"

"On the Queen's highway," he clarified. "You saw the arrow coming but you just stood there. You didn't even try to duck or move out of the way." The prince found himself abruptly furious with her now that they were out of danger.

His eyes bore into her and she ducked her head, watching her fingers as they picked at a loose thread on his bandage. The rogue princess could still feel his gaze burning into her skin but knew that she wouldn't be able to reply if she looked at him, she'd have a hard enough time just breathing under the weight of that stormy blue stare.

"I've been running from the Queen for almost three years now," Snow finally began, fighting the waver in her voice, "and I let myself hope that this might be the end of things. That today I'd finally be free. And when I saw that arrow stop..." she released a ragged breath, "I knew that it wasn't over. And it hit me that as long as both of us were still alive that it'd _never_ be over. And then the arrow turned back and...I just wanted it to be over." Her eyes squeezed tightly shut with her whispered confession.

James couldn't breathe, heart and lungs constricting painfully at the mere idea of the woman he loved wanting to die.

"Snow..." he began carefully.

"Don't," she interrupted firmly. "It was just a stupid fleeting thought." Emerald irises met his levelly, seeing his skepticism. "If I'd wanted to die I could've just let the knights catch me or ran away from you, but I didn't. I'm not going to hurt myself, I promise," she assured him. Distantly the princess wondered why she cared if he believed her or not, why she was even bothering to explain any of this to him, but somehow felt that she owed him this much.

The prince swallowed the hard lump that'd lodged itself in his throat, trying to let her words reassure him. His good arm tightened instinctively around her waist, as if he just held her close enough he could protect her from everything, even herself.

"I think that's enough talking for now," Snow joked, trying to break the awkward tension surrounding them.

James nodded and let his chin rest atop her hair, blue eyes glaring off into the darkness.

He was starting to see the merits of that tale Snow had been reading, decidedly bloody thoughts of Rumplestiltskin and the Queen filling his head.

XXX

Regina stood in the center of her chambers in the summer palace, the flickering flames of the fireplace mirrored in her impassive black gaze as she stared at the Huntsman. "You lost them?" Her voice was disturbingly calm, lacking the edge of malice that the man had come to expect of his captor.

"Yes, we lost track of them once we entered the woods on the western ridge. But I'll find them, you needn't worry." He chose his words carefully, not wanting to seem overeager but also not wanting to seem as though he didn't want the prince and princess found—if the Queen suspected him of helping them escape again...her crushing his heart would probably be a blessing compared to whatever fresh hell she'd unleash on him.

"That won't be necessary. They'd already be gone by the time you returned."

The Huntsman stared at her, trying and failing to gauge her mood—Regina rarely bottled her emotions, particularly in the presence of those she deemed below her: essentially everyone—but her sharp features gave nothing away. The silence in the room pressed down upon him, the occasional crack of burning wood nearly startling him out of his skin.

"Will that be all?" he choked out, anxiety flowing through him and making him even more aware of his missing heart—after all this time he still expected to feel it pounding in his chest.

"For now," she replied, dark gaze unwavering.

The Huntsman gave a slight nod and turned gratefully to leave.

"Just one last thing," Regina called after him, stopping him cold. He heard the measured click of her high heels on the marble floor as she approached him. "You wouldn't be keeping anything from me, would you, my pet?" She stopped right in front of him, gazing up at him through her lashes, black tipped nails grazing his chest.

"No. I've told you everything just as it happened."

"So you did everything possible to find them? You didn't let Snow and her prince escape on purpose?" Regina prodded, fingers slipping lower.

The Huntsman hissed in a breath as she pushed against his bruised ribs. "I _want_ my freedom," he growled firmly. Which was true, he just wasn't willing to trade an innocent life to get it.

"Good," she purred, "because I would _hate_ to have to punish you again, my pet."

Pain shot through his ribs at her words but when she removed her hand he felt fine, completely normal. He filled his lungs experimentally and the dull throb that'd accompanied any motion all day was absent. She'd healed him. The Huntsman lifted his eyes questioningly to hers.

"Better?" Her expression seemed genuinely interested how he felt.

He nodded numbly, thoroughly confused. Why the _hell _ did she do that?

She moved closer, chest brushing his and the Huntsman fought back a shudder of revulsion, acutely aware of where this was going. "Wait for me in my bedchamber. I'll be along shortly," Regina murmured, warm breath tickling his bare throat.

He turned on his heel and entered the adjoining bedroom, forcing down his disgust as he tugged open the ties of his leather doublet. Objectively the Queen was attractive—once he'd have even called her beautiful—but he never enjoyed their time together. She used his body in bed the same way she did out of it, as a punishment. To remind him that he was no longer master of his own destiny; that he lived, died, and existed solely for her pleasure.

Regina watched him leave, arms folded beneath her breasts. Only after the door shut behind the Huntsman did her expression change, a deep frown marring her features. She snapped her fingers and the raven that'd been perched on a bust of a forgotten goddess transformed back into a knight.

"He lied to you, Your Majesty."

"Of course he did. You didn't honestly expect him to confess, did you?" the Queen retorted scathingly.

The knight shrunk back as she breezed past him and sat before her ornate vanity mirror. The surface rippled once she settled, her reflection shifting to a dim room where a sleeping couple on a narrow cot was just barely visible. The black-haired woman stirred fitfully, a frown flickering across her face until the sandy-haired man unconsciously drew her closer to his chest, instantly she calmed, snuggling into his warmth.

Regina glared at the couple, hands white-knuckled around the lip of the table.

"I can have my men ready and waiting at their position by dawn," the knight offered hopefully.

"Why would I want that?" she murmured, eyes never leaving the mirror.

"Majesty?"

"I've been watching them since you found them and do you know what I've learned?" The Queen didn't wait for his reply. "She doesn't remember him. And separating them now would only be half as painful as allowing them to stay together like this. Their suffering is only just beginning and I want them left alone so that I can enjoy _every single minute_ of it." A cruel grin tipped her crimson lips.

"Well," the knight began nervously, "I've done as you asked, Your Majesty. May I go home now?"

"I don't think so."

"B-but you said if—" he stammered, backpedaling.

"I had no idea you would prove so useful as a bird. So I think I'll have you stay that way." Regina rose from the chair, leisurely unfolding her limbs like a panther poised to strike. The knight turned to run as she approached but never made it to the door. A snap of her fingers returned him to the form of a raven, this time imprisoned in a large cage with a thin chain attached to his leg. He cawed mournfully behind the bars but the sound only caused her smile to widen. "Good night, my pretty birdy."

The Queen returned to the vanity mirror, running a brush through her long dark curls and adjusting the thin straps of her blood red nightgown.

"And what of the Huntsman's betrayal?" a familiar disembodied voice boomed from the mirror, the surface churning and reforming in the face of the Genie. "How will you punish him?"

"He's already being punished," she replied, resisting the urge to roll her eyes at the obvious jealousy in his voice.

"He's defied you twice and yet you still allow him to live?"

"If I killed him his suffering would be at an end," Regina replied simply, lifting her hand mirror to continue appraising her reflection. "And that would be giving him exactly what he wants. Sometimes living is a far worse fate than death." Her gaze darkened, and she could feel tears threatening as Daniel's kind face flashed before her eyes.

_No!_ She would not think of _him_ now. She never thought of Daniel when she was with the Huntsman, although the temptation was there. If she closed her eyes she could imagine it was Daniel's rough hands on her skin, his mouth against hers, his body moving with hers…

But Daniel was dead. The Huntsman was alive. And he was hers for as long as she wanted him. Regina and Regina alone would decide when he would leave her and not a second before.

She replaced the hand mirror on the table and met the Genie's sulky stare head on, scarlet lips curling into a vicious smirk.

"What's the matter, my love? Jealous? You wanted forever with me and you've got it, but the Huntsman has endowments you no longer possess. But that doesn't mean you can't do what you do best: _watch_." With that she exited the room, body tingling with anticipation at what awaited her in her bedchamber.

**A/N:** Well that's all for this update! I apologize for how long it took me to get this done, but obviously, this one's a _bit_ longer than the previous chapter. Over twice as long to be exact. lol Hope you enjoyed my twisted take on "Heart of Darkness" and all the cameos I added—the Huntsman and Regina were buckets of fun! And Snow and Charming…well those two crazy kids are just getting started in my book. ;-}

Well, my lovely readers, time to review and let me know what you thought. Seriously, review or I'm sending Regina after you to turn you all into ravens. ;-}

Oh! I made way too many references in this chapter—to _Disney_ films and literature—but if anyone can guess the references that are featured around the raven in the final scene (both are literary references), I would be quite tempted to take requests for future chapters from them.

Thanks for reading!

Sassy18

XXX

Quotes used:

_"How stand I then, _

_That have a father kill'd, a mother stain'd, _

_Excitements of my reason and my blood, _

_And let all sleep? _

_...O, from this time forth, _

_My thoughts be bloody, or be nothing worth!"_

—_William Shakespeare, __Hamlet__, Act IV, Scene IV_

XXX

"…_Rich gifts wax poor when givers prove unkind." _

—_William Shakespeare, __Hamlet__, Act III, Scene I_


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